


Self-Preservation ( What it means to be pack)

by Areanna_Whitewolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areanna_Whitewolf/pseuds/Areanna_Whitewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One cold and lonely night.....</p><p>F*ck that. </p><p>Sometimes it takes coming close to death to realize how much you can lose. Stiles learns that <i>just because you think you can</i> means nothing when you're in the dark, alone, and dying. And that sometimes playing with your own life can change you forever. </p><p>Sometimes it takes a harsh lesson in Self-preservation to see how much you are worth to those who love you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into Teen Wolf. So please go gently on me. I have been writing vampire fiction for over a decade now, so this is something completely new too me. Plus I only watched the show up until Season 3 A. So of course this is going to be AU. 
> 
> So this happens some time after Season Two. Erica and Boyd will never die. Scott might become a true Alpha and then again he might not. I don't know about Kira enough to decide if she's going to join the pack. Lydia has no room in my tale at the moment. I might bring Lydia the Banshee in Later, but for now I have too many things going on to add her. Peter will have returned from the dead, slightly less evil then he was before. He will not be plotting to Kill Scott or Derek, and he will be apart of the pack. As evil as he was in the show, he was just too damned handsome to keep out. Saying that, he is less evil in my story but He still has that certain Creepy bad touch air about him that makes him Peter. 
> 
> I don't know where I am going with this quite yet and the muses have full control. So please, just stick with me. Once I have my groove back, and I do more research to flesh things out, you'll see more chapters coming at a greater rate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so our Story begins.....

Prologue

Stiles lay on the ground in the middle of the forest, bleeding out all over the foliage. Alone, freezing, and dizzy with the feeling of blood lose. He barely remembered anything beyond the omega that had attacked him. Not one of the millions of supernatural creatures that were drawn to Beacons hills, a mass murderer, or a hunter. That would have made sense. This was just some random omega that had accidently crossed paths with him out on the edge of the preserve. 

And now he was dying.

He knew his phone was just inches from his non bleeding right side, but he could barely gather the strength to breathe, let alone remember names and numbers.But he had to try. He blinked, reaching down just enough to grasp it weakly in his hand. Gathering the last of what was left in him he brought the phone to his mouth. He was lucky that his father had granted his wish a month ago when he turned seventeen and gotten him a phone with voice recognition. He also knew what he was about to do could draw more than help to his side, but there was little choice. With the light fading fast in his eyes, he pressed the voice command app and choked out the whispered words that might be enough to save him. 

“Send out command 672. Wolf in extreme distress. Link to Scott McCall and Derek Hale. Text should read: Code Grey. Stiles in forest.”

Hearing the phone do its thing, he let his hand fall. Now all he could do was wait, stay awake and hope someone reached him in time. 

\-----------------------------------------

Across the preserve, Derek and his rag tag band of misfits were out for a night of training. Surprisingly Scott was with them. After the whole thing with Jackson, Matt and Gerard, Scott had decided that being in any pack was better than being alone. There was safety in numbers and a better chance of getting help when things got really rough. The Alpha still watched him more closely than the others, but didn’t treat him overly bad. 

Suddenly Derek felt his phone buzz silently in his pocket. Who would be calling him at 11 pm? Everyone he knew was here already. But when Scott stopped and drew out his phone to, Derek knew it had to be Stiles. And if Stiles was texting them both, there had to be some deep shit going down. 

But when he pressed the glowing sound message icon on his screen, what came out of his phone chilled him to the core. The howl stopped everyone in their tracks. When a wolf made that sound, it wasn’t just in trouble. It was dying. The words below the sound bite set his teeth on edge. Stiles was in peril. Scott’s wide open, frozen eyes looking at him paused him only a mere moment before he looked at his pack and growled out the words. 

“Stiles is out somewhere in the Preserve. Spread out and find him. Howl when you do. And run like hell, because my guess is, he’s probably dying. This isn’t a drill, people. Now Go!”

With a glow of blood red and amber eyes, the pack set off as fast as their feet could carry them. Stiles may be human but he was pack. He was in danger. They had to find him. 

 

\------------------------------------------------

Stiles’ only focus was on breathing now. He focused on drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. As long as he could do that, he would still be alive. The world was grey around him as he fought to keep awake. To not slip into the darkness begging to suck him down. 

It was Boyd who found him first. His face appeared in Stiles line of sight with a deep look of troubled concern. He knew that if Boyd was actually showing emotion, he must look like absolute shit. 

Boyd leaned closer to him, grabbing his limp bloody hand up gently. 

“Stiles, listen. Just hold on a little longer. Help is coming, alright? You just have to stay alive a few more minutes. Stay with me.”

Stiles tried to say he would, but there was no voice left. His throat was nearly crushed, a livid black bruise testament to how badly he had been attacked. Then his whole head seemed to vibrate as Boyd threw his head back and roared fiercely into the air. The beta was calling his pack to them. Boyd was right. Help was coming. All he had to do was keep his chest rising and falling, and he might just make it. 

He just had to stay awake a little longer and then he could finally rest. 

\-----------------------------------------

Derek and Scott arrived first to Boyd’s howl. Erica, Isaac, and Jackson burst through the trees a moment later. They all fell silent as they saw the condition of their friend and pack mate. 

Boyd cleared his throat and spoke, tears actually shining in his eyes.

“It had to be a rogue Omega. I can’t smell anything else. His whole left side is torn up and his throat looks crushed. Derek, he’s lost too much blood. He’ll never make it to a hospital in time. His heartbeat is weak. There is only one thing left to do now if we want him to live. You remember what he said. He said if he was dying you could turn him. He didn’t want to leave his dad or the pack.”

Derek nodded and spoke. 

“Isaac, call Deaton. Tell him we have a serious emergency and we’ll be at the clinic in 10 minutes tops. Scott, call your mother and the Sherriff. Tell your mother that we’ll need whatever medical supplies she can get her hands on and some blood. Everyone keep alert. We have an Omega roaming around and we don’t want to be caught with our pants down.”

Derek kneeled down, his eyes glowing red as he picked up Stiles’ right arm. Closing his eyes and flooding his mouth with as much werewolf changing saliva as he could, he took a deep shuttering breath. Then he opened his fanged mouth and bit down as gently as possible, holding on for a full minute before he let the limb drop. Then he picked up the limp body as carefully as he could and held it close. 

“Let’s go. We have a pack member to save.”

As the pack took off running, they all prayed. Each of them desperately wishing for Stiles to live and be whole again. This was the boy who had touched all their lives in some way. He had been the human heart amongst a pack of unstable wolves, reminding them of their own humanity. 

For Scott, he was the constant unbreakable shadow by his side. The one who was there for him through thick and thin. From bullies, to asthma, through school and then becoming a werewolf; Stiles had been his rock through it all. Even when Scott had lost complete control and tried to kill him, Stiles never left his side. He was a brother, a friend, and now a loyal pack mate who had been dragged into this dangerous world all for the sake of staying by his side. There was no Scott without Stiles. He just hoped after tonight, it would continue to stay that way. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He wouldn’t be whole without him. 

For Derek, Stiles was the annoying thorn who just wouldn’t quit. The one who tackled school work with research while running head long into trouble for a bunch a people he hardly knew. The boy who wouldn’t let go, even with every reason to hate him. For nearly three hours Stiles had held him up in that pool while the Kanima had tried to kill them. Even when Scott had let them down, Stiles had refused to give up and let him suffer drowning. Stiles was a breed all his own. It was rare for a human to show such compassion for werewolves. For once Derek hoped Stiles would make it through this and wake up talking a mile a minute about stupid things that only made sense to him. 

Erica swallowed hard as she ran, remembering when Stiles had been there for her. He had stood up to a group of bullies who were taunting her after one of her really bad episodes. He even broke some dude’s phone that had recorded her wetting herself. He had gotten a black eye for it, but the video never made it on the internet. He might be spastic and clumsy, but when the going got tough, Stiles stood his ground. He took care of those who, like him, were treated like shit because they were different. She had never been nice to him, but after tonight, she would change that. He was her Batman and she was his Catwoman. They had to stick together. 

Isaac whined in his throat as he ran. Stiles had gotten his father put in prison. One call to the Sherriff was all that was needed, and Isaac never had to deal with his father again. And now Stiles needed him. And Isaac would be there for him. That’s all there was to it. 

For Boyd, Stiles had noticed him before anyone else. He had come over to sit at the table of a boy everyone else ignored. Boyd was never good at making friends or with talking to people in general. He stood alone in a room full of people and no one noticed him. Until one day a clumsy kid with a buzz cut flailed over to his table and began trying to hassle him into a late night at the ice rink. Stiles had seen him when no one else did. He had sat with him through lunch more than once, talking a mile a minute without taking a breath. For the first time, someone had noticed Vernon Boyd. That alone made them friends. 

Each life he touched so personally, with his own flair and annoying charm. He gave of himself without asking anything in return save an ear to listen to him and a shoulder to lean on. And even when most of them had pushed him to the side and tried to get him to leave, he just kept coming back, research in hand and a dorky smile on his face. He was always ready to step in and toe the line when they needed him most. 

Now he needed them. He needed their strength, their compassion, and their hope to get him through the night. It was their turn to gather around him, to fight for him in his time of weakness. Determination fixed in each set of eyes. Failure was not even an option. He would make it through the change, pass through the gates of death and come out standing on the other side. He would live, no matter what it took. He had given it all for them.

Now they would do no less.


	2. Chapter 1: Awake and Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally wakes up. Now the lessons can begin.

It was three days later when Stiles slowly came out of his deep sleep. The beeping of what sounded like a heart monitor rang loudly in his head. He groaned slowly as he raised his right hand to his face, trying to wipe his eyes. Something tugged painfully on the inside of his elbow and he slit his eyes open to see what it was. It turned out to be an IV tube leading up to a half filled bag of some sort of clear fluid. Great, he was in a hospital. This was just fantastic. His poor father must be worried out of his mind.

Licking his dry lips, he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his desert like mouth and groaned out his words.

“He…Hello? Is anyone there? I need water.”

A few seconds later a straw was put to his lips and he sucked down liquid mana from heaven. He must have been drinking it too fast, because someone cleared their throat and spoke.

“Drink slowly, Mr. Stilinski. You may not die from it, but choking is hardly ever a good thing.”

Stiles slowly blinked his eyes and turned towards the direction of the voice. He looked at the man in confusion.

“Deaton? Is that you?”

Deaton nodded.

“Indeed it is. At least we know your brain is intact and unharmed.”

“What happened? Why are you in the hospital with me?”

Deaton, ever the calm emissary, simply leaned forward and spoke.

“You aren’t in a hospital. Given your severe trauma and subsequent quick healing, being brought to the hospital would have raised too many questions we didn’t want to answer. So you are at home, in your own bed. Scott’s mother helped us set up some medical supplies to aid your recovery. As for what happened, well that is something you’ll remember in more detail later. But I will tell you what I know.

“You were attacked three days ago by what was likely a rogue omega. You suffered severe lacerations to the inside and outside of your left leg and arm and a punctured lung. Not to mention the crushing of your trachea and your broken ribs. By the look of the blunt force trauma, I’d say this attacker threw you hard into a tree or a boulder perhaps. However, you were quite close to dying. Between the shredding of your femoral artery and the six inch hole in your side, you were losing too much blood.”

Stiles sighed. Now he remembered.

“I was dragged from my car on the way to Derek’s. I had some research to give him from the beastiary. The Omega dragged me from my car at a stop sign. I never even saw him coming. He said something about being pack human, but honestly I was too busy being attacked to pay attention. I was just in the wrong place.”

Stiles paused to try to shift a little, before a look of confusion came over his face.

“So wait a minute. Not that I’m not sublimely happy to be alive and all, don’t get me wrong. But how is it I am still breathing right now?”

Deaton gave one of his aloof smiles and shrugged.

“Derek had to bite you. If he hadn’t, I doubt you would be here at all. The werewolf venom gave us just enough time to sew up your wounds and give you blood. Scott was adamant that you gave your consent to be turned if you were ever dying. Was he correct in that assumption?”

Stiles gave a nod. 

“Yeah. I didn’t want to leave my dad or the pack if I didn’t need to. Figured that being alive trumps being dead any day. I didn’t want to be a werewolf, but it’s better than dying and leaving my dad all alone, you know.”

Deaton finally stood up. 

“Good. I would have hated having to kill the last Alpha of the Hale pack for turning a human without consent. I’m glad to hear that you gave your permission. Killing any werewolf is messy business. But just as werewolves and hunters have their code, so we emissaries have ours. Any wolf that turns a human against their will, even a dying one, is forbidden. Peter should be glad you all killed him before I had the chance. My way would have been far more painful.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, so he left it alone. Then he looked up just before Deaton left the room.

“How much does my dad know?”

“Between Scott and Derek, he knows everything. You are lucky you slept for three days, Mr. Stilinski. As you can probably guess, he didn’t take the news too well at first. I was more than surprised he didn’t shoot someone. But given the fact that you are going to live, he is much calmer now. And with that, I had better get down stairs to inform the others that you are awake. You have some very anxious people waiting for your return.”

Stiles watched as the door closed quietly behind the vet. Boy, he could already sense the extreme talking to he would be getting as soon as he was up on his feet. 

But at least he was alive. That’s all that matter.  
\--------------------------------------

Not three minutes later, his dad walked into the room, tired and frantic. Ever careful of still healing wounds, John Stilinski wrapped his son gently in his arms and let out a shuttering breath.

“Wow, Kiddo. I’ve seen some scary shit here in my time. Most of it in the past year. But when I saw you bleeding in the vet clinic and not moving, I think that’s the worst I’ve been since your mom got sick. Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me? You’re all I got left in the world, son. I can’t…I can’t lose you too. I won’t survive it.”

John paused a moment to swallow down the lump his throat before continuing, tears climbing down his face. 

“Who’s going to be there to tell me what to eat? Who’s going to tell me not to have all that grease I love so much? Who will be there to tell me to go to bed when I falling asleep at the table? Who is going to give me grey hairs by sneaking into my police files and helping solve crimes when I’m not looking? You can’t die on me son. It’s just me and you against the world now. A world where freaking werewolves run around and lizard men attack people for no reason. But it’s our world. I can’t walk in it by myself. Please son, you can’t…” 

Stiles sniffled, his own tears making an appearance.

“Oh god, dad, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I wanted to tell you so many times. I never wanted to lie. But I was so worried someone out to get the pack would hurt you too. Matt shot at you, and it scared me to death. I thought if you knew the next big bad would come for you too. I couldn’t let you get caught up in my mess. This all started because of me. I just had to go into the woods after a dead body. If I hadn’t, if I wasn’t so freaking nosy, we wouldn’t be here right now. I wanted to protect you and I’m sorry. This, all of this, it’s my entire fault.” 

“But I’m the dad, stiles. You’re my son. I have to protect you too.”

At first, all Stiles could do was hug his father. But his brain never sat still for long. And as he lets his thoughts wonder, he slowly began to panic. His father knew now. His father was at risk. Not just from the next enemy to hit Beacon Hills, but also from his own son. Sitting back, he began to pant short breaths. 

“Oh my god, you’ll have to lock me up. I could hurt you now. And what about the hunters. I mean it’s just Chris and Allison, but they didn’t leave forever and they might come back with more. They’ll be gunning for the whole pack now after everything that happens. Dad, you have to get away from me. You could get hurt. You could die. I can’t...I can’t…”

John saw the panic attack take over his son. And if the others explained it right, the change came with an alleviated heart beat. But when purple eyes glowed out of a panicked face ( purple?) , he knew he had to try and do something. 

“Stiles listen to me. You have to calm down. Panic is no good for you right now. Come on, kiddo, breathe with me.”

Stiles felt the fangs begin to sharpening in his mouth and that only made him panic more. 

“Dad, you…have…to…go. I’m danger…dangerous. Dad I can’t breathe. Derek…Scott… Changing…hurry.”

Within seconds of his plea, Derek was there, his red eyes glowing brightly in the shaded rooms. He approached slowly, not wanting to stress the already panicked teenager before him. Taking Stiles’ hand, he sat down on the bed opposite John, and bent his head close.

“Easy Stiles. You have to be calm now. There is no danger, my sentinel. Your father is right here, and you won’t harm him. Everything is louder, heightened, and your emotions are hard to control. I understand. But if you don’t calm down, you are going to hurt yourself. Shhh, Stiles...”

Slowly, Stiles began to calm his breathing, his new instincts taking over. This was his Alpha now. The Alpha would keep him safe. Burying his face in Derek’s neck, he took in the new scent, slowly cementing the bonds of pack. His father’s hand ran through his hair, adding to the safe warmth surrounding his newly integrated wolf.

Finally he pulled back, blinking in confusion. 

“Sentinel? What…wait I read about that. The ranks of the wolf pack. But aren’t sentinels usually mated pairs? And how do you know I’m a sentinel?”

Derek sat back with a slight smile. Leave it to Stiles to be in research mode. After all, he was the one who found all the answers. 

“Your eyes tell me what you are. They glow purple. Purple is the color of a sentinel. In a werewolf pack, sentinels don’t have to be paired right away. We may be closely related to wolves, but we aren’t animals. When my mother was Alpha we had no sentinels in the pack. They are rare to find, and even harder to come by when one is bitten. But Deaton did mention that you are a Spark. It may be why you became one when you were bitten.”

Stiles settled back in the bed, letting his mind wander in it’s own scattered way. Then he looked between his father and Derek, sitting up slowly as he began to speak. 

“I think I understand now how the pack is situated. You are the Alpha. But I think you were born a lead warrior first. That would have been your rank if your pack had lived, right?”

John watched as Derek nodded with a sad smile and kept his grin to himself. He knew what the older boy was doing. He was trying to keep Stiles away from panic by forcing his brain to focus hard on one path. It was a trick his wife would use before she passed. Whenever Stiles would begin to panic in the hospital, Claudia would always be there to guide his mind away from the worry into something that helped his ADHD to calm. 

He was brought out of his musings when Derek spoke again.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s what I was being trained for at least. You’re good.”

Stiles grinned. 

“You mean I am totally awesome. Who else could get all those research facts for you? Oh that’s right; me!”

“Alright, Mr. Awesome. What about the rest of the pack? Let’s see f you can figure out where they all stand in rank.”

Stiles scoffed. 

“That’s totally easy. I was figuring it out before all the wolfy powers came on. But if you want to test me, get prepared to be blown away.”

Derek almost chuckled as he heard the rest of the pack down stairs snicker. It was good to see Stiles just like his own self after such a brutal attack and life-changing moment of finding out he was a werewolf now. 

“Alright, this is how I figure it. Scott and Isaac are both top betas. But Scott is slightly above Isaac because Isaac still has a little bit of puppy left in him. Eventually he will outrank Scott because he was bitten by you instead of Peter. It makes him slightly stronger. Peter was hard to pin down because he changed so much when he came back from the dead. I mean he’s still crazy, but he’s not all _‘Tear your throat out with my teeth’_ Crazy anymore. He has some manners now. Though whether he chooses to use them or not is anyone’s guess.”

From below, the silky soft voice of Peter came through the air, almost dripping with sarcasm. 

“What a wonderful compliment, Stiles. I shall have to practice my curtsy.”

Stiles gaped for a moment, looking at Derek. 

“Did Peter just quote Lion King at me? Tell me I am not hearing things.”

Derek shook his head with a mock sigh. 

“No, you heard right. Even before the fire he was always quoting Scar. We should have known then that he was crazy.”

Stiles snickered.

“Well then being Assassin in rank is perfect for him.”

John interrupted then.

“Wait, did you just say that Peter was an Assassin?”

“No, Dad. I said his rank in the pack was assassin. They are the devious wolves in the pack. They are excellent at the dirty work. They help the pack by way of Intel, spying on other packs in times of battle to give the upper hand. They’re often sneaky and arrogant, but just as loyal as any other member of the group. There is usually three assassins in a full pack, but ours is still small, being so new. And we also have humans in our ranks, which makes it a tad more difficult to pin ranks down.”

“So if I was in the pack, what would I be?”

Derek went to say something, but Stiles beat him to it. 

“What do you mean? Of course you are in our pack. Whether you knew about werewolves or not, you are already a card holding member through me. Especially after the whole Matt/Kanima thing. If you were in serious danger, supernatural or otherwise, Derek and the others would do what they could to help you out of it. As for your rank, well that’s a bit tricky.”

John shrugged, his curiosity running wild. Just three days ago, a whole new world opened up to him. And being a police officer for so long now, he had a drive to gather all the facts.

“Why is it tricky?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Well, technically, you have three ranks you could be. But since a person can only have one, it makes it harder to pin you down. At first I would have put you at lead warrior rank. You are the Sherriff after all. But since you weren’t in the know before, you were technically a pup watcher, since that would have been my rank before I was bitten. But your age and the knowledge you have in protection and defense, you could also be ranked as an elder. So it’s difficult to place you in one rank. Also that’s sort of the Alpha’s job anyway.”

They both looked at Derek, who nearly blushed about being put on the spot. 

“Well, he would have to read up a great deal to be in the position he should be. But with your help and perhaps Deaton’s extensive knowledge, I think he would make a fine elder. Peter would have been in the role, but to be honest, he’s far too devious to go to for advice, and even he knows that.”

Stiles smiled at his father, shifting to turn towards him and give him a hug. Suddenly he hissed and grabbed his side. A wet feeling met his fingers and the coppery smell of blood filled his nose. He pulled his hand away, looking at the viscous red fluid, whimpering in his chest. 

“Why am I not healing yet? Isn’t that supposed to be something that comes with the bite?”

Derek grabbed his arm, immediately draining the pain away. 

“Stiles, you nearly died. I think that if I had bitten you a minute later, you never would have made it. The wounds to your arms and legs are mostly done and your broken bones are mended. But the wound in your side was deep. Stay still. We have to get Deaton up here to see how badly the stitches are torn.”

John stood up, nodding to Derek. 

“I’ll go get him. Is there anything else we can do to help him? I hate seeing him like this.”

Derek sighed. 

“There is, but you won’t like it. He needs the safety of the full pack to help his wolf mend this injury. The forming of the bonds and the closeness of it helps the wolf to calm down and focus its energy. And this room, it’s not big enough for all of use, Sherriff. Only half the pack is here and already the living room is full. Plus, this isn’t the den. My loft is. It has the space to house all of us. I know you want to be with him right now, but…”

Stiles spoke up, his purple eyes burning with pain and a growl in his voice. 

“Hello, bleeding here. We can talk about this when I am not in need of medical attention.”

“Alright. I’ll get Deaton and Melissa up here. They’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

John sighed and disappeared through the door. 

Derek watched as the stoic expression on Stiles’ face fell away to show the extreme pain he was in, even with the draining. He pulled back the blankets and carefully moved Stiles to lie down. He pulled away the loose shirt to reveal the sopping bandage and shook his head. 

“How long did you hide this before it hurt too much?”

Stiles grit his teeth. 

“I couldn’t let him see. It’s my fault I moved the wrong way when Deaton left the room. I’m not good at sitting still.”

Derek growled. 

“Never again, you hear me? You don’t hide these things from us. I don’t care who’s in the room. You may think you have the need to be the hero, but things like this aren’t a joke. You’re days of running off into danger without thinking stop now, understand. You almost died because you were heading out during a nearly full moon by yourself at night. You can’t do that anymore. You’re pack now more then you were before. And that means we look after you. Something we should have been doing way before now.”

Stiles hissed as he shifted again. 

“I know. Who will you get to do your research if...”

Derek nearly roared. 

“Damn it Stiles, are you fucking crazy? Don’t you get it? You mean more then stupid research and dog jokes. You are the heart of this pack. You don’t get it. You never did. You were stronger then all of us when you were human. Always there to put the clues together, to step in and be heard when all of us were too stubborn and foolish to listen. You were the one to help us defeat people like Kate, Gerard, and the Kanima. Fuck, you even helped when Peter was feral and killing people. You don’t know your worth and it scares me. But without you behind the scenes, showing up at the oddest times, helping us in whatever way you could, we never would have made it.

“But you never think of yourself. You have absolutely no self-preservation. You treat your life like it’s something that can be thrown away. And I get it. You want to be there for your friends. But what happens when you can’t be there anymore? When one day you come too close to death and there’s no one there to save you? You have to start thinking of yourself Stiles. Because we can’t watch you around the clock. And that means you have to start being smarter about how you run around alone all the time. You are part of us now, just like you were before.”

Derek sighed as he stood up, hearing footsteps on the stairs.

“But it’s more now. The bonds of a wolf pack are tightly knit and we look out for each other. So until you learn to look out for yourself, we’re going to do it for you. And you are going to hate it at first. You are more stubborn and independent then the people down stairs. But eventually you’ll understand what it really means to be in the pack. So get ready to get smothered, Mr. Awesome. Because we never want to go through what we did three nights ago. I’ve seen enough death in my life. I don’t want there to be anymore. You understand?”

Stiles gulped, tears silently making their way down his face. He bit his lip and gave a brief nod. 

“I understand, my Alpha. I’m sorry for hurting everyone so much. I was only trying to help.”

As Deaton and Melissa walked in to help Stiles, Derek walked to the door and blinked, shedding a tear of his own. 

“Help should never come at the cost of your life. I hope you learn that fast enough. Because next time, I don’t know if I can be fast enough to save you again. Think of your father or Scott. Hell think of all of us. Think of what it could mean if we get there too late because you think you can handle it all on your own. Please, Stiles. Please take care of yourself. You can’t say you’re sorry when you’re dead.”


	3. The sacred art of the whistle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles shocks Derek and Peter in more ways then one. And then he shocks the pack. Sometimes all it takes is an ear-splitting sound to make a difference. Stiles will show his Alpha how.

After another long talk with his father, and very careful movement, Stiles was moved to Derek’s loft to be with the pack. It took nearly a week before the wound in his side was mended. But in between pack snuggles, food, and sleep, Stiles was finally one-hundred percent well again.

Today found him in the loft mostly by himself. Peter was doing secret world domination things in his room or something, since no one had seen him today. Most of the teenagers were at school, something Stiles was glad he tested out of. He was dubbed a teenage genius by most of his teachers, with the exception of Mr. Harris, so now it was looking at possible colleges in his future. But first he had to get control of the whole new werewolf thing. 

And that meant getting into shape. 

Derek had run to the store, complaining about feeding bottomless pits and there being no food in the house. That meant that for the most part, Stiles had to come up with a way of keeping himself busy. Something not easily done when you were a hyperactive werewolf.

So here he was, looking at the small gym Derek had made out of one of the many empty rooms in the huge loft. He looked around at the equipment that seemed alien to him, trying to decide if it would come alive and attack him with dumb-bells. It all seemed so unnatural to a boy who had spent his life working on his mouth rather than his body. But he would give it a try and hope that Derek didn't come home to a crushed pack member he had to save. 

Finally his eyes fixed on something he knew. When he had been 6, his parents had been looking for a way to keep him from destroying the world with his endless need to move. So they had signed him up to gymnastics after school. Four hours of carefully work-out and training for nearly three years, until his mother got too sick and the lessons had to stop. His favorite had always been the balance beam. And seeing one buried in the corner, he couldn’t help himself. After some careful adjustment of some of the equipment, he pulled the beam out into a decent sized space. Too bad there wasn’t room for the spring board after he had set the mats at each end. Ah well. He would make due. 

After a couple of good stretches, he took some practice runs on the balance beam, to jog his excellent memory. Together with his new werewolf strength and his wiry body, he had most of the basics down in quick succession. Traveling out of the room for a minute to get something to tape up and coat his hands in, he stripped his shirt off and doused his hands in baby powder. It was a scent his very sensitive nose could deal with. Then he went to work. 

His concentration had its driving focus as he took to the beam. His body arched and twisted with the grace his human form would never be able to master without years of practice. He lost himself in the constant movement of his arms and legs. His balance was far better than it had been two weeks ago when his clumsiness would have seen him face-planting on the floor several times. He danced on the balance beam, hardly breaking a sweat as he worked out muscles that remembered his youth. 

But in all that focus, he never saw the audience he was gathering. Derek had returned ten minutes into his work-out, searching for him after putting away a mountain of groceries. Peter, however, had been drawn out of his room when he heard all the noise of metal banging the floor. Now they both watched like slack-jawed idiots as they took in the sight before them. This couldn’t be the flailing teenager who would trip over his own feet when a slight wind blew against him. New werewolf or not, Stiles shouldn’t be able to move this well. 

Most of the training they would do as werewolves was about strength and fighting. But the nearly full grown man before them was poetry in motion. The way he twisted, bent and flipped on the balance beam spoke of professional training. Two weeks ago Stiles wouldn’t have been able to do even the most basic of gymnast moves. How in the world had he gotten this good in so short a time? Especially considering the fact that he spent most of it healing. It boggled the mind. 

Meanwhile, having used up his excess energy, Stiles vaulted off the bar with a double flip in the air, facing the bar in a perfectly balanced dismount. He grinned and he waved to the wall of imaginary people. 

“And the crowds go wild as Stiles Stilinski gives a perfect performance. Ten point zeros across the board. He won the gold ladies and gentlemen.”

He was fake-cheering himself when he finally saw the two figures gaping at him from the door. He froze, his mouth opened in mid-cheer as he blinked at the two werewolves staring at him. Growing beat red he stared at the ground and rubbed his arm. 

“Hi. Sorry about this. I got bored, alright. I’ll put the gym back the way it was.”

Derek finally closed his mouth and shook his head. 

“Forget about the gym. Where did you learn to do that?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. 

“When I was six, I never stopped moving. I wasn’t diagnosed yet with ADHD, so my parents just thought I was a really hyper kid. So they signed me up for gymnastics class after school to see if some of my energy could be put to better use. My mom’s illness got progressively worst when I was nearly ten and I had to give it up after three years. I was just fooling around is all. It’s no big deal.”

Peter scoffed. 

“Fuck no big deal. That was amazing, Stiles. I am not ashamed to admit it shocked me nearly back into a coma. I wouldn’t mind learning to do some of that myself. Werewolf strength notwithstanding, it could provide an excellent way to learn flexibility. When my mother taught Talia and myself, we were trained for strength. But we weren’t taught to bend our entire body the way you just did. In battle, between brute power and the ability to shift and move like that, it would be a lethal combination. Could you teach that if you had to?”

Stiles shrugged. 

“Yeah, I could, if it’s okay with Derek. The problem is I doubt any of them would take the training seriously.”

Derek growled in his throat.

“I’ll order them to learn. They know how to train. This will just be a part of that.”

Stiles shook his head. 

“Very little of what you’ve taught them has actually has an impact, Derek. Have you seen training the way I have? They’re uncoordinated, unfocused, unruly, and they mostly wrestle with each other rather than listen. They’re stubborn and self-absorbed in their own little world most of the time, and it shows. You’re not blind, but you are being far too optimistic. If my dad saw that shit from the rookies he’s had to train, they’d never make it in the door of the station.”

Derek grumbled, but Peter shut down that attitude quick. He was in no mood for moping. 

“He’s right, Nephew, and you know it. You hate that you know it, but it’s too obvious to ignore. If your mother saw how they were during training, she’d pin them up in a make-shift hunter’s trap for three hours just so they would listen to her. She would have verbally kicked their collective bottoms. It’s no wonder this pack has had so many near death misses during battle.”

“Well what do you want me to do about it? They never listen to me. If I command them as an Alpha, they laugh it off and pretend I said nothing. If I force them to listen, I get nothing but hatred and a room full of dumb angry faces. I was never trained to be an Alpha, and you both know that. I was supposed to be lead warrior for Christ sakes, and I never even finished the training for that. I can’t make them listen.”

Stiles growled, his purple eyes glowing.

“Bullshit you can’t. You just haven’t learned how. This past year hasn’t exactly lent itself to allot of down time. But right now we have that time. They’re going to hate you at first. But they’ll eventually learn to work together as a team and a pack, and the hatred will vanish. It’s like my lacrosse coach. Finstock is out of his mind, but when he yells at you to do something, you do it. Because, trust me, you don’t want to do suicide runs for an hour as punishment. He commands an entire field of stupid jock gorillas into a cohesive team without any werewolf alpha powers. That’s why he’s the coach. He knows how to make them listen. Except for Greenberg. How that kid made the team in the first place is beyond me. I think Coach chose him just to have someone to vent his frustrations on, because the kid looks like he never played a sport in his life.”

Peter spoke up, seeing the tangent Stiles was about to go on. 

“Stiles, focus please. You’re mind is running away into left field again.”

Stiles shook his head and forced it back on the right path. 

“My point is that if he can do it and he is human, then so can you. You might not have been born a leader, but it takes more than blood and training to get a bunch of teenagers to listen to you. It takes a special tool. And Coach has it. It’s the most nail-biting, irritating, ear-bleeding sound in the whole wide world. It’s the sacred artifact all coaches use to work their skill. It’s the coach’s whistle. I swear that thing has magical powers. Because Jackson is a complete and total testosterone-driven asshole, but when he hears that whistle, it’s like submitting to an Alpha. I swear more than once I almost thought he would bare his neck to it. And Sports Coaches aren’t the only ones to use it. Hold on a minute.”

Stiles ran passed them, upstairs to the room he was sharing with Isaac at the moment. He went to his overnight bag, knowing what he was looking for would be there. He pulled it out and hugged it to his chest, remembering the day his father had gifted it to him. It was the first whistle his father had received when he moved up into the rank of Sherriff. And Stiles took it everywhere. 

He met the two werewolves in the living room and held it up. 

“This was my fathers. He got it when he received his sheriff’s badge. He was in charge of training the rookies for the first year. So when he got someone else to do it finally, he gave this one to me. He still has like six, so it’s not a great loss to him. But this one was special. And we’re going to use it today when the others get home from school. They may come to hate us all, but they will give in. Because no-one, not even the most stoic of people, werewolf or otherwise, wants to hear this all the time ringing in their ears. Teenagers, my Alpha, are like wild herd of horses. All you have to do is break them first, and then you can watch them fall into line.”

Derek snorted. 

“And what happens when they try to steal it from you?”

“That’s where you and Peter come in. You have to run defense. You keep them off my back until the sound breaks them, and then you’ll get to see the magic happen.”

The two older werewolves looked at each other and shrugged. It was probably going to be a complete disaster, but they were willing to give it a try. After all, nothing else seemed to have gotten through yet. 

Giving Stiles a nod, they all sat back in contemplation and waited for the gaggle of misfits to arrive. 

\--------------------------------------------

When the teenagers came strolling in the door, all throwing their bags wherever they wanted, Derek gave them a good twenty minutes to rest their brains from the daily mind melt of the school day. He watched them carefully, cringing at what he saw. Once Stiles had brought it to his attention, it was hard to miss. Candy wrappers were thrown everywhere. Papers and books were placed haphazardly throughout the living room, some on top of ever growing piles left from days before. And with or without shoes, feet were put up on furniture. Stiles was right; they had absolutely no respect or discipline. Derek couldn’t even count the times that he had had to clean up after them. This had to stop. 

Finally he stood before them, his arms folded as his face took up its ever present scowl. 

“Alright, since none of you ever seem to have any homework, I guess it’s time for some training.”

A chorus of moans and groans met his suggestion, and excuses began to unfold. He gave a long suffering sigh as he looked at his uncle, shaking his head. 

Finally Stiles, rolling his eyes, stepped up behind Derek. Putting the whistle between his lips, he blew hard into it. Lucky for him, Peter had gifted them with muffling ear plugs before the teenagers came home. It wasn’t enough to block out all sound from their sensitive ears, but it went a long way in blocking the irritating sound of the whistle that had the others clutching their heads.

Before the violent words could erupt from the angry faces before him, Stiles stepped up beside Derek and growled.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up!! You sound like a bunch of sixty year old grannies with all your constant complaining. If I didn’t know you were all teenage werewolves, I’d be looking for grey hairs. You act like Coach told you to do suicide runs for three hours. You’ve got super strength, you’re young, and you apparently have enough energy to throw shit wherever you damn well please. So what’s a little training?” 

Jackson was the first to speak. 

“And who made you Alpha of the pack, Stilinski. Last I checked, you are the youngest werewolf here. You need the training far more than we do. You don’t even go to school anymore.”

Stiles growled. 

“That’s right, I don’t go to school. Do you know why? Because in between fighting off supernatural creatures, hunters, and doing research, I also managed to get the highest gpa score in our year. Lydia and I worked our asses off to keep our grade. That’s why I get to stay here and not go to school. And for your information, I take college courses online in the morning, even during the time I was injured. Not to mention I actually spent the afternoon working out and cleaning up the place before you came home. Not that any of you care, apparently?”

Scott spoke, his ever-present look of confusion evident.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

Peter stepped in. 

“He means you treat this den like a pig sty. Something I am almost sure you would never be able to get away with at home. Stiles spent two hours cleaning dirty shoe prints out of the carpet and pulling out a mountain of candy wrappers from under the couch and the beds. His wolf drove him to do this, because even newly turned; he has powerful instincts which he listens too. Remarkable for one only a week old. Even wild wolves keep their dens cleaner then all of you do. This isn’t your homes though, so you feel like you don’t have to clean up your mess. You’d rather make a mess and then go home to clean places your parents and maids have done the cleaning for you. It’s absolutely disgusting.” 

The others looked around themselves guiltily and shuffled to clean up the mess they had just made. Stiles blew the whistle again. 

“Before you start doing the guilty cleaning, there is something I have to say. Even before most of you were werewolves, I’ve been the pack human since Scott got bitten. And I’ve watched as each of you was turned and integrated into this pack one by one. It’s true, I am not the Alpha. Derek is. And none of you show him any of the respect that position demands. You’re all too busy being lost in your own little world to truly listen to your own instincts. When it comes to being friends, for the most part, you’re the strongest group of friends anyone could ask for. Even with your stubborn attitudes and differences from each other. But when it comes to being a pack, you’re the saddest pack of werewolves I’ve ever seen. When animals can do it better then you, who have the higher brain function, that’s pretty pathetic.”

Once again, ever the jock, Jackson opened his mouth. 

“What made you the leading authority on werewolves, Stilinski? You’ve only been one for…”

Stiles got in his face. 

“Who does all the research Jack-ass? Who solves the puzzles and does the foot work it takes to bring you all up to speed? Who is slowly translating a completely French bestiary in their spare time? And who was out at the ass crack of night to bring you information and nearly got killed to get it to you? Oh that’s right, me! I do the research and the study. I am the one who has been pouring through the Hale family’s entire library from storage. While you’re busy being popular and being captain of the lacrosse team, I am spending endless hours on the internet gathering facts. Except for maybe Peter, who almost completely lost his mind due to the fire, I probably know more about being a werewolf then any of you. Fuck, I am the one who had to convince Scott he was bitten by one nearly three years ago. So while I am the newest werewolf in this group, I have the knowledge to back up my claim. Any other complaints from the peanut gallery? No? Good.”

He stepped back and rubbed his temples. No wonder Derek came up with a language consisting entirely of grunts and arched eyebrows. 

“Now, as your Alpha said, you are all going to train. But this time, you are actually going to be listening to what he tells you. While wrestling around on the ground helps pack bonding, it’ll take far more then that if we want to be ready for the next big bad. You need to learn what it really means to be a balanced, stable pack. And that means learning the lessons you’re Alpha is trying to teach you. Peter and Derek were born werewolves. It’s in their blood to be what they are. You don’t have that, so you have to be taught. And it’s going to suck, because it’s not going to be easy. But there is a reason this is called Beacon Hills, guys and gals. It’s because it’s a supernatural beacon to all the other creatures out there. And a stable pack gets left alone because they are a force to be reckoned with. You have to learn to work together and depend on each other if you want to survive. So training is going to be brutal, and you are going to hate it. But as the days and months pass and you see the difference it can make, you’ll be amazed and some of the awesome things we can do.”

More groans met his ears as they stood up and put away their snacks. They then stood before Peter, Derek, and Stiles, waiting to hear what they were going to be doing today. 

“Everyone ready to train?”

Grumbling nods answered him. 

“Good.”

Blowing the whistle one more time, Stiles said something he’d always wanted to since he had first heard it from Coach. 

“GET YOUR ASSES ON THE FIELD!!”

As they trooped out, Stiles waited until Derek and Peter pulled out their eye plugs and smiled, handing the whistle over to Derek. 

“Yes! I always wanted to do that.”

Derek rolled his eyes and hit Stiles in the back of his head. 

“Wipe that grin off your mug and get out there with them, my sentinel. You have training to learn too, research or no.”

Hugging Derek with all the exuberance of a five year old, Stiles gave a fist pump and nearly back-flipped out the door. 

“Yes , oh Alpha my Alpha!”

Standing side by side for a second, Peter lent over to whisper in Derek’s ear before they joined the others. 

“We are all doomed.”

Derek actually gave a smirk as he nodded.

“Yes. Yes we are.”


	4. The legacy that will not die.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Stiles is just full of all kinds of surprises.

After three hours of solid, hard training, everyone dragged their sweat-drenched asses back into the loft. Stiles was right when he said everyone would hate it. But what they hated more was that god-forsaken whistle. And like a military general on crack, once Derek had that whistle to his lips, he commanded respect like never before. 

But as Scott walked up beside his bestest bro, what shocked him as well as most of the pack was how Stiles had moved. Though his fists didn’t hit nearly as hard as theirs did, the way he twisted and bent his body was awesome. 

Even tired, Scott gave his friend a wide, happy smile when he spoke. 

“Dude, the way you moved out there was the best. Even my fancy flip moves on that first day of Lacrosse didn’t even come close. And the way you back-flipped over Jackson’s head and knocked out his knees was bad-ass. You have to tell me your secret.”

Stiles gave a tired smirk and shrugged. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to learn. Don’t you know by now Scotty? I’m Batman. So full of awesomeness I don’t even know what to do with myself. Come on; time for the Stilinski bro-fist.”

Scott held up his fist for Stiles to bump with his own. Then, rubbing his wild, dirty hair, he groaned.

“Time for a shower before I get home to have supper. Mom’s making her famous burritos with cheese sauce.”

Stiles glared at him. 

“I hate you so much now. One day I am going to steal the recipe from her and find out how she makes them. But I hear you on the shower. This is my last night here before I have to head home tomorrow. When I talked to my dad earlier, he was desperate for some father/son time.”

As they separated, Stiles headed off to find a shower of his own. After waiting fifteen minutes for Isaac to be done, it was his turn. Throwing off his clothes, he thanked the gods that Derek had a special water system put in last spring to supply the loft with endless buckets of hot water. Stepping under the steady stream, he groaned as his sore muscles began to relax. 

But as he soaped up his body, he began to realize a different kind of ache. It had been a while since he had Stiles-time to himself. And being a virgin teenager meant that if he didn't ‘flush the pipes’ on a fairly regular basis, he would get desperate. So taking himself in hand, he worked up a good rhythm and let the warm water do its work. Isaac might catch the scent later, but he wouldn't say a thing. After all, Isaac masturbated every morning without fail. 

As he worked himself towards that final finish though, he began to notice something strange. The base of his penis was feeling rather odd. It seemed to be swelling. But when he opened his eyes enough to look down, he nearly choked on his own tongue. Something was seriously wrong with his dick. The base was nearly the size of an apple. His eyes opened wide in horror and unable to help himself, he screamed.

Two seconds later, Isaac nearly knocked the door down as he came into the bathroom frantically. 

“Stiles, what’s wrong? Why did you scream? Are you hurt?”

Stiles bit his lip behind the frosted shower glass. 

“Isaac, something is seriously wrong with me. Can you get Derek or Peter please? Whoever you find first? And keep the others away. It’s kinda personal.” 

Isaac nodded and turned around frantically. 

“Sure. You just hold on buddy.”

As Isaac ran off, Stiles tried to rub the swelling down, which only made it worse. He tried using the cold water, which only made his wolf yip and pull back. Stepping out of the shower, he carefully wrapped two towels around his waist to hide the monstrosity between his legs and waited for help to arrive. 

This conversation was going to suck. 

\--------------------------

Not four minutes later, Peter walked in, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He and Derek had been in the middle of seasoning steaks when Isaac had broken down in the kitchen and told them about Stiles. 

“What had you screaming on the top of your lungs exactly? You don’t appear to be hurt, from what I can see. And I would have smelt the injury if you were.”

Stiles bit his thumb and gathered his courage. 

“Um, yeah. Sorry about screaming like that. I just had a bit of a shock. Alright, this is going to sound really weird, but do werewolves have any problems with…odd swelling?”

Peter blinked in confusion. 

“What sort of swelling? You have to be more specific if you want my help.”

Stiles stood up and bit his lip.

“Will you promise not to laugh? I don’t think I can handle it right now.”

Peter nodded, rolling his eyes. Teenagers; they were so sensitive sometimes. 

“I promise not to laugh.”

Stiles grabbed the towels and bit the bullet. 

“I was in the shower and stuff and…well this happened.”

Closing his eyes in embarrassment and worry, he bared himself for Peter and waited for the horror. 

“Christ, Child, how do you find any clothes to wear? No wonder you fell over allot as a human, with that weighing you down. What did your parents feed you as a child? I must know the secret.”

Stiles snapped at him, keeping his voice extra low to keep the other werewolves from hearing. 

“Oh my god, would you focus please? This isn’t a big dick competition. The swelling, Peter. Is it normal? Or do I have some weird werewolf defect?”

“Usually only Alpha’s and their mates get that sort of swelling. It’s called a knot by the way. Surely in your research you’ve come across it more than once. Why you have it, I can only guess. Derek and Deaton mentioned you are a spark. So maybe it’s a gift from the turning.”

“Will it go away? How long does it last?”

Peter sighed. 

“I wouldn't know. I never received one. Like I said, usually only Alpha males or their mates get one. I'll have to ask Derek, since he’s the Alpha now.”

Peter raised his voice a little more and called out Derek’s name followed by a string of Latin words he was sure no one else in the pack would understand. Derek answered him in Latin and he nodded. 

“Alright, Derek said that it does go down. After completion it should take no more than ten minutes, given the fact that you aren't breeding anyone right now. He doesn't know why you have it either. So just finish what you started, wait a little bit, and you should be fine.”

Stiles sighed in relief. 

“Oh, thank god. I thought my dick was going to explode or something.”

Peter turned to walk out and let Stiles finish his business. But before he left he had to make one more poke at Stiles.

“By the way, you should thank your father for the rare and valuable gift he bestowed upon you.”

As the door closed, Stiles screamed at him.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up!”

\----------------------------------------------

Later that night after supper was finished Stiles went to an empty room just to have some quiet time to himself. Life seemed to speed by over the last 3 years. Ever since that night in the woods where Peter bit Scott, everything seemed to always be on permanent fast forward. And sometimes, like right now, he needed a moment of contemplation. When he needed to put all the puzzle pieces into the endless jigsaw of his overactive mind. So he sat in the silence, letting his mind wander. He took in the claw marks on one of the walls, knowing at one point someone had used this room for control. So taking out some colored chalk, He wandered over to the first patch of clear wall and began to sort it all out. 

First he started with Derek’s family. From several books that were in storage during the fire, he had compiled several family members. From Great Great Grandparents to the youngest children. So he wrote out the family tree with all the information he had. Then he went through the other members of the pack, getting as detailed as possible. From ranks in a pack to jobs to birth and death dates; he wrote it all down. He even got fancy, shading in different colors for different pack roles to get them all right. He even wrote down different roles for the human members who weren’t in the pack directly. He let his mind free on the walls of the room, losing times as he pieced it all together. 

Then he went on to work out the enemies they had faced. Hunters went first. Writing out the entire Argent family tree was a little harder, considering the bestiary had been in French. But through slow process of elimination, he worked it all out. 

Finally he worked on his own family history. From his father and mother’s records which he had peaked at more than once, he managed to collect everything going back at least five generations. Writing himself in last, he connected himself to Derek by way of the bite that changed him. 

By the time midnight hit, he was just finishing up a stunning rendition of the Triskelion when Isaac walked in the room.

“Stiles, are you alright? You've been in here for…holy shit!”

Isaac looked around him in stunned awe as he took in the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. Blinking several times to see if it changed, he realized it wasn’t a dream. The amount of information before him looked like a richly made family tapestry in chalk. It was absolutely amazing. 

“I knew you were smart, but this…? Stiles this is…”

Stiles brushed off the compliment with a shrug and a grin, spreading his arms wide to gesture at the walls.

“Welcome to my mind, Isaac buddy. While you were all running around being werewolves and stuff, I had to fill my time with sometime. So….Ta da!”

Isaac shook his head.

“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back. They have to see this.”

“Isaac wait! Don’t bother …”

But before he could finish his statement, Isaac had vanished from the room off to retrieve Derek and Peter. 

Great, just great. Now he was going to get scolded at for drawing on the walls. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he leaded against the clawed wall and waited for the angry screaming to ensue. 

\-------------------------------------

Isaac finally came back ten minutes later, tugging like a child on Peter’s hand. Derek brought up the back of the threesome, looking a little more than annoyed as he spoke.

“I don’t get why you had to drag me from my bed to stare at…”

Just like Isaac had, both of them stilled as they all entered the room. Their eyes went wide as they looked around them, stunned by the absolute marvel of their history laid bare. 

After a good fifteen minutes of not yelling at Stiles, Peter spoke first.

“Stiles, this is marvelous. You are truly the genius all your teachers said you were. There’s stuff on these walls about my family that I had no idea of. Not to mention the pack ranks you included surprised me the most. I never knew our family history was this rich. I won’t lie though; it does hurt to think Derek and I are the last Hales left from the old pack. But the way you’ve put this all together and the connections you added from the new pack almost makes it hurt a little less. You have to understand. There is no replacing the pack I grew up in. But now, with this…”

He gestured to the wall and gave a bitter sweet smile. 

“The Hale pack has begun to be resurrected slowly from the burnt ashes. Thank you.”

Stiles blushed and looked down. To him, it wasn’t a big deal. 

“I just have one small request.”

Stiles looked up for a moment. 

“What?”

“Would you mind if I took a small paint brush and made this permanent? I think it’s important for the current pack members, and any others we may have in the future, to see this work of art. To let them see the history they come from. And, after all, chalk is hardly a good medium to use if we want to keep it here.”

Stiles bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Well I may be able to do one better. I don’t know if it will work now that I am a werewolf and all, but I could try. Alan was beginning to teach me some things after I tested out of school. I didn't want to mention it because we had only just begun to train and I didn’t know how far we would take it. I thought that even if I was human, I would eventually take over as Emissary for the Hale Pack. But there was one trick he showed me that might work. Let’s see if my spark is good for anything, shall we. 

He stepped to the last symbol he’d drawn in the floor and knelt down. Putting one finger to the dead center of the Triskelion, he drew his focus inward and tried to find his spark the way Deaton had trained him too. 

He had nearly given up when it finally glowed inside of him. Grabbing it tightly, he smiled as he felt his new wolf curl around it, as if trying to protect it and keep it warm. The wolf had accepted his gifts during the turning and it made him smile. Something told him his spark was a gift from his mother’s blood and anything from her was something he didn’t want to give up. 

 

Finally focused and centered, he began to mutter ancient Latin under his breath, distantly hearing Peter slowly translate what he was saying in English to the two others in the room. But he paid it no mind. He had a task to complete. Letting his magic spread through the floor and up the walls, he focused on the chalk markings he just spent hours writing out. 

Twenty minutes later, slightly dizzy from the taxing energy it took to complete everything, he opened his eyes and took a look around him. Now it was his turn to be shocked.

The whole room had turned to marble. In rich colors his words were carved into that, seemingly made of semi-precious stones and metal. It glittered around him like a rainbow, the riot of color vivid to his now enhanced vision. Over the Hale family tree, a three dimensional wolf head stuck out, its garnet colored eyes almost making it look alive. All over the wall of foes they had faced up until now, you could see etchings of the Kanima, Gerard and Kate Argent, and even a strikingly perfect portrait of Peter in crazy alpha form. 

But what surprised him most were the etched faces of his friends staring out at him. The detail his magic had put in was flawless. Each name on every wall now had a face to go with it. Not even a computer could create such detail. 

But the final touch had been the ceiling above their heads. As Derek, Peter, and Isaac flanked him, they all stared up at the mosaic looking down on them. Around the light was the complete etching of the full moon, the bare bulb adding to the full effect of the polished stone carving. The darkness of the night sky surrounded it, complete with tiny stars. On the bottom edge of the moon was what appeared to be a grassy field. In this field was the silhouette of a massive wolf pack, their head all arched upward as if they were howling as one cohesive unit. 

And there just below this picture was the words he had messily scribbled in what was supposed to be fancy gilded letters. Now they shined out in rich, textured silvery gold. It canopied the whole room like a massive capstone. Those two words said it all. 

It read : _“Our Legacy”_

Stiles felt as Derek and Peter’s arms circled around his shoulders. Than Derek spoke in whispered words, as if he was afraid to break the feeling of magic in what now felt like a sacred room. 

“Peter once told me that you would make a great wolf. I scoffed at him when he said that. You were clumsy, loud, and independent. You just seemed to walk into trouble like a blind man walking into traffic.”

Stiles glared good-naturedly at him, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Gee, tell me how you really feel.”

Derek shook his head.

“I’m not finished. Yes, I thought you were just some dumb kid who wouldn’t keep their nose out of other people’s business. Now though…”

He sighed deeply as he continued.

“Looking at this, I think maybe I was the blind one. You’re still loud, and you’re stubborn as hell, don’t get me wrong. But underneath all of that is something I never saw. I know you’d do anything to protect your friends, and that you are far smarter than anyone could guess. But it’s more than that. You have this amazing gift to see through everything to the truth. You never stop until you've solved the puzzle and have all the answers you can find. I mean, look at this room. In a few hours, you've managed to give me back something I thought the fire took away from me forever. In a way, you've sort of given me my family back. 

“In the years following the fire, I ran from my own memory of them. I didn't want to remember the faces I thought I destroyed when I choose to trust Kate. I didn't deserve to remember them. To taint their images with my anger and guilt. I admit, until tonight, I barely remembered what most of them looked like. I didn’t want to see their faces, because it would always remind me of what I did. Seeing this though, it’s like turning a new page. I don’t see just the fire when I look at them anymore. I see the happy times before they died. It’s like, as long as this room remains, they can be there to watch over me and my pack. The Wisdom they taught me, the lives that we share; you brought it all back.”

He pointed up to the ceiling.

“It means everything, and you reminded us of that. Thank you, Stiles. Thank you for showing me what I couldn't see. Peter was right. You do make a great wolf. I can’t wait to see what you’ll become one day.”

\----------------------------

As the four wolves slept deeply that night, smiles lay frozen on their faces. Each of them had lost something in their past, and in a way, now it would never be lost again. Between magic and stone, nothing could destroy the tapestry created from the hands of one boy’s extraordinary heart. It was the bonds of a pack that was lost, but was now found again. It was the ties of family that couldn't be untied. And it was survival of a species that proved no matter how few in number, good could outlast evil with enough hope.  
It was their legacy. A truth born this day that would never be undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Look at Stiles and all his BAMF mojo. But just to be clear, Stiles isn't god-like and he doesn't have limitless powers either. Do not mistake his shows of flexibility and magic as some sort of thing that makes Stiles better than them all, because it isn't. He will have rough times where he won't always be standing on the top of the world. Werewolf or no, Stiles is still Stiles. And no one is ever perfect. Keep that in mind as I go forward with my tail.


	5. Sound the Bugle Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in dedication to Stiles mother, Claudia Stilinski. And to my father, who died of brain cancer at the age of 69. I still "howl" for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried several times writing this chapter. Not that you will too, but I would keep the tissues close just in case.

Two days later found Stiles in his room, his face down cast as he stared at the date on the calendar. It was the day that would be forever burned in his memory. This was the one day out of the whole year he wouldn’t say anything as he watched his father drink himself into a stupor. His dad never worked on this day, and no one dared to call him in. 

For this somber day was the day Claudia Stilinski died. 

So Stiles dragged himself up from his bed and slowly drew on his clothes. Black jeans, a black tee-shirt, and a black hooded sweat shirt. It didn’t matter how hot or cold it would be today, nor did he care. This outfit was picked out and worn every year on the day his mother passed. 

As he walked down the stairs he didn’t say a word. Nor did he go into the kitchen to cook a breakfast no one would eat. As he passed the living room, he paused for one brief moment to put a hand on his father’s shoulder. A silent show of support from son to father. Then, picking up the pre-brought arrangement of purple orchids and calla-lilies, he stepped out the door and got into his jeep. Turning the key, he heard the engine cough and rattle for a moment before rumbling to full life. 

He went the route he could probably drive blind by now and stopped in front of the McCall’s residence. Beeping the horn once, he waited for Scott to join him. Scott had been doing this with him for years now. It was probably one of the only days his mother let him ditch school without asking questions. 

So as the passenger door opened and slammed, they gave each other one brief look of understanding before driving towards the cemetery. There were no happy greetings, no joking, and no words. Scott knew better then to try and talk right now. When Stiles was ready, he would speak. Until then, Scott would hold his tongue. 

When they arrived at their destination, Stiles shut down the jeep and took a deep breath. He opened up his door and got out, waiting for Scott to follow him. Once they stood side by side, they made their way down the ever familiar row of marked grave stones until they found the one they were both here to see.

Stiles bent down first, cleaning away the leaves and the weeds that had grown in the months since he was here last. He took out the old dead flowers he had left here last time, and picking up what was once a very heavy stone vase, he dumped out the debris that was collected in the bottom. To his new werewolf strength, the vase weighed nearly nothing now. He placed it back in the carved circle that held it and filled it with clean water. Then he placed the new flowers in it, carefully working out the perfect arrangement of all of them to get it just right. 

After doing that, he took a brand new tooth brush and a special stone cleaner and with the precision of hands that remembered their task too well, he cleaned each and every one of the letters etched in the grave marker. Completing his task, he wet a cloth down and gave everything a finally cleansing. Finally he sat back, swallowing against the lump in his throat that wouldn’t be moved. Clearing his throat, he laid his hand on top of the rounded edge of the gravestone and spoke. 

“Hey mom. Sorry I haven’t been around for a while. This past few months have been so busy. There’s so much going on, I just never seemed to have time to stop by. But I want to tell you about what’s been going on lately. So I’ll pick up where I left off last time and fill you in.”

Crossing his legs, he patted the stone and began his tale. 

“Well last time I was here, I had just tested out of all my classes. Then I started online college courses. From what I can see, I am so far acing the four courses I am taking. From the emails I’ve been getting, my professors are very happy with me. So maybe when I decide on what college to go to, getting accepted should be a breeze.

“We finally put an end to Gerard and the Kanima. Jackson is all better now, and turning out to be a fairly decent werewolf. He’s still a jock asshole, but he’s become a very good member of Derek’s pack. Even Scott has finally stopped being so stubborn and accepted his place as head beta. 

“Peter had just come back from the dead when I spoke to you last. He’s changed so much, mom. It’s like being dead calmed him down. He is still as crazy as a mad hatter, but he doesn’t seem as angry or vengeful anymore. He accepted Derek as his Alpha and it turns out he has a wicked sense of sarcastic humor. Not bad at all for a guy who was set on fire and got his throat ripped out.”

He paused and took a steadying breath as he prepared himself to tell his mother about his most recent change. 

“Nearly two weeks ago, I was in a terrible fight with a omega werewolf. I nearly died. So Derek did what I asked him to do and he turned me. I’m a werewolf now, just like Scott. It’s not so bad. I just hope that wherever you are up there, you aren’t disappointed in me. I wasn’t ready to join you yet, mom. Dad only has me now, and I can’t leave him first. You told me to look after him, so I had to take the bite.”

Finally the grief became too much and he got up on his knees, hugging the headstone with a tight grip. Even then, he was careful not to use too much strength. He didn’t want to crush the stone. He wasn’t sure he could, but he didn’t want to take a chance in finding out. 

Then the tears came hard. And endless spew fell out of his mouth as he apologized over and over again to his mother. Scott grabbed onto his friend lightly, tethering his brother friend through the harsh sobs that wracked his body. 

For Scott knew the secret no one else did. He knew what happened in that hospital room just before Mrs. Stilinski passed away. He had been there in that room when the dying woman had made a request of her son to end the pain and let her leave her struggling body. Stiles’ dad had been off to get coffee that one moment, having been tired from the late hour. He hadn’t been there when it happened finally. And every year on this day, he was here with his friend, holding him through the storm of his guilt and pain. 

But he also knew that Stiles had something now he didn’t have before. He had the pack now. And just like that, he knew what he had to do. 

“Stiles, buddy, listen to me. I know you want to stand here and cry all day long. But I watch you go through this every year and it kills me. So this time I have an idea. Because you’re a werewolf now, this might help you finally let some of this pain go. Will you come with me, please? You can trust me, I promise. If it doesn’t work, I’ll let you come back here and do what we always do. But I think it will help. So will you follow me? I can drive your jeep. You taught me how. Just try this with me, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll never ask for it again.”

Stiles looked at his friend through tear drenched eyes and paused for a moment, taking in the words he spoke so that they made sense. Finally he gave a nod, letting his friend pull him away from the cold headstone. Slowly they made their way to his jeep and he let his friend shuffle him into the passenger seat and close the door. 

A few seconds later they were off to Derek’s loft, once again silent. For what was there to say. 

\----------------------------------------------

As they arrived ten minutes later, they headed slowly up the stairs and rang the door bell. It was Peter who answered them. 

“Scott, what are you two doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at school like a good boy?”

Scott grinded his teeth.

“My mother let me stay home today. Stiles needed me. And he needs the pack.”

Peter took in Stiles’ red, wet face and hunched over appearance and rolled his eyes. 

“What’s the matter with him, exactly? Did he get a failing grade and cry about it?”

Scott growled, flashing his eyes and fangs at the older beta. 

“No, you fucking asshole. This is the day his mother died. Now shut the hell up and let us in.”

Peter’s face sobered immediately as he stepped aside to let them in.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Scott calmed down and guided his friend over to the couch. By now, Derek had made his way down, having heard the door bell and the subsequent yelling that followed. He took a sniff of the air, questioning the odd scent coming off of Stiles. This wasn’t something he’d ever smelt from the boy before. He expected the grief and the pain. But why did Stiles smell of guilt?

“Stiles, I know you are hurting right now. But I can’t help but ask this question. You don’t in anyway have to tell me anything. But you reek of deep guilt. Why?”

Scott looked at his friend in the eyes and spoke.

“Can I tell them the secret? I think they would understand more than anyone.”

Stiles nodded as whispered in a raw voice. 

“No one else though. They can’t tell anyone else. They have to promise.”

Scott looked up at the older men and his face got serious. 

“What I am about to tell you can’t go any farther. No one knows this secret but Stiles and I. And I only know because I was there. You have to swear no one else gets told. If it reached the Sherriff…”

They both nodded, giving their vows of silence. Scott listened to their hearts as they did, making sure the beats stayed steady. Satisfied he took a deep breath and spoke. 

“As you know, Stiles’ mom was dying of a very aggressive form of brain cancer. It gave her a bad condition known as Fronto- temporal dementia. It’s where parts of the brain shrink. It’s not a nice way to go. Towards the end, she hardly had a lucid moment. So not only was she in severe pain from migraines and Chemo. But she didn’t know why she was suffering half the time.”

Rubbing his hand through his hair, he gathered his courage up and continued. 

“On the day that she died, she had a few hours of clarity. It was like watching a candle get a really high flame before it goes out. She was in so much pain. The meds weren’t working anymore, and her headaches were the worse. Stiles just turned 11 a few weeks before this happened. We were both in that room before she passed. But at one point she turned to Stiles and begged him to help her. She knew that asking him was hard on him, but she was suffering so much. She was on a lot of medicine and life support to help her stay alive. One of the machines in particular was the one that kept her heart regulated. I don’t know how it worked, but it had to be kept on at all times. 

“When his mother begged him, he couldn’t say no. He hated seeing how much pain she was in. She asked him to be her superhero. To be strong enough, and brave enough to let her find peace. So he unplugged the heart machine long enough to let her pass. Within a minute, she was just…gone. He plugged it back in just in time for the nurses to come in. He gave her what she wanted. And he’s been suffering for it ever since.”

Stiles by this time, had buried his face in Scott’s shirt, his shoulders trembling as he cried again. 

But it wasn’t Derek who bent down and rubbed his shoulder. It was Peter. 

“Stiles, can you look at me for a moment? I have something to tell you.”

Stiles turned his red face towards the older man. 

“I knew your mother before you were born. I only met her a handful of times, mind you. But I remember one or two occasions when she stopped by with you in her arms. You were probably too young to remember, but she asked Talia to watch over you a couple nights so that she could have some time with your father. You might be surprised to know this, but your mother was well aware of the fact that we were werewolves. She kept it to herself, and we trusted her with our secret. She was a kind and gentle woman. You have her eyes I think. I can see her in them. And your mother would be proud of the man you have become.”

Stiles immediately tried to shake his head, to refuse the truth of Peter’s words. But Peter wouldn’t hear of it. 

“Yes, she would be incredibly proud of you. You were what she asked you to be, and you still are. You’re brave, and you’re kind. You’re smarter than most of the adults around you. And even being so young, you gave your mother a gift she would never have gotten from any doctor or nurse.

“Yes, you’re mother died. But you didn’t kill her. You gave her mercy. She was suffering so terribly, child. She was already dying slowly. You gave her a reprieve from the agony of her illness. It takes a special kind of person to be able to have the courage to do such an act of kindness. You didn’t murder her. You gave her the peace she was begging for. You are probably the one of the strongest people I know. I couldn’t have done it. If there had been a way to save my wife, I would have dragged out her burning body from the wreckage of the fire and forced her to live. No matter how she was suffering. Wherever she is right now, Claudia is thanking you for releasing her from the burden of a very slow and painful death. Please try to see that?”

Stiles bit his trembling lip and moving away from Scott, threw himself into Peter’s arms. He sobbed out his pain and his guilt into the man’s shoulder, his wolf pacing and whining inside him. 

“Shh, I’ve got you little wolf. You just let yourself grieve. Let the guilt and the suffering bleed away. I’ll hold you through the storm.”

\--------------------------------

After ten minutes, Stiles finally fell silent having no more tears to cry. Derek had handed Scott a cold, wet cloth to clean his face off with and he felt a little lighter now then he did in previous years.

Derek finally broke the silence. 

“I think we should howl. When a pack member dies, the wolves gather around the body and howl their grief. They can’t cry tears like we can. But the howl not only mourns the deceased wolf, but also celebrates its life. Laura and I did it after a few months in New York. It didn’t make my guilt any less, but it helped to let my wolf mourn for its loss. Your mother may not have been a member of the Hale pack, but she is an honorary member even in death. So we should howl for her.”

Stiles looked down at the floor for a few minutes and, feeling his wolf practically begging him to cry out, he looked up at Derek again and nodded. 

“Yeah, that would actually be good. She might like that kind of thing. Especially since she knew your family before the fire. I think she would be honored to have the pack howl for her. But first we have to wait for the others to get out of school.”

Scott pulled out his phone. 

“I’ll text them to meet us in the preserve. That way if anyone hears, they’ll just think it’s the local wild life.”

Peter looked at Stiles and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“What about your father.”

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and sighed. 

“He’s probably too drunk right now to join us, but I’ll ask him. 

As Scott sent out the messages, Stiles called his dad. Surprisingly, after some serious convincing, John agreed to meet them on the edge of the preserve. 

So now all they could do was wait until the rest of the pack left school. 

\--------------------------------

Slowly, the group gathered at the old Hale location, each of them having no idea why they were here. Maybe Derek wanted to train again. 

As Derek came up, Stiles, Peter, Scott and John behind him, he stood tall and spoke. 

“Listen, all of you. This isn’t another training exercise. This is sort of a pack bonding experience. I’ve gathered you here, because two of our own needs us to gain closure for the past. Today, seven years ago, Stiles mom passed away. Even after all this time, it’s like a fresh wound that hasn’t been able to heal. So we’re going to help him heal it. When a pack member dies, the wolves gather around the body and give throat to their grief by howling. I ask each of you to join us today in giving a howl for Claudia Stilinski. And to help give Stiles’ and his dad what they need to begin to heal that open wound. Can you do this for them?”

After a few seconds of careful deliberation, the entire pack turned to Derek and nodded. Then they shifted into their beta forms and waited for Derek to give the signal. He turned to Stiles and, with a tender look of sad understand, spoke. 

“Are you ready, Stiles? You will be the one to begin the howl.”

Stiles clutched his father’s hand and looked up at him, as if waiting for an okay. 

“Howl for her son. I can’t do it. I don’t have the ability. You need to howl for the both of us. I think, in some strange way if you had been a werewolf when she passed, it might have been something she wanted. So you go ahead. I’ll be right here beside you the whole time.”

Stiles pulled his hood back and Shifted into his beta form, walking with his father to the front of the pack. Then, swallowing a couple of times, he finally gave his wolf full throat and howled into the air. The others followed in his wake as they gathered around him. Each adding their own cry to the haunting melody of the hymn.

And somewhere where all good spirits lived out in paradise, Claudia Stilinski turned her head to listen to the wolf song with a bright smile on her face. Her boys were still hurting, and would be for a while yet. But at least now, they could begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sound the Bugle by Brian Adams.
> 
>  
> 
> _Sound the Bugle Now._  
>  _Play it just for me._  
>  _As the seasons change,_  
>  _Remember how I used to be._
> 
>  
> 
> _Now I can't go on,_  
>  _I can't even start._  
>  _I've got nothing left,_  
>  _Just an empty heart._
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm a soldier,_  
>  _Wounded so I must give up the fight._  
>  _There's nothing more,_  
>  _For me,_  
>  _Lead me away._  
>  _Or leave me lyin' here._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sound the Bugle now._  
>  _Tell them I don't care._  
>  _There's not a road I know,_  
>  _That leads to anywhere._
> 
>  
> 
> _Without a light_  
>  _I fear that I will stumble in the dark._  
>  _Lay right down,_  
>  _And decide not to go on._
> 
>  
> 
> _Then from on high,_  
>  _Somewhere in the distance._  
>  _There's a voice that calls_  
>  _Remember who you are._  
>  _If you loose yourself,_  
>  _Your courage soon will follow._  
>  _So be strong tonight,_  
>  _And remember who you are._
> 
>  
> 
> _You're a soldier, now._  
>  _Fighting in a battle._  
>  _To be free once more._  
>  _Yeah, that's worth fighting for._


	6. Out of the Ashes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very profound chapter filled with knowledge, hope, Tragedy, and Pack feels. Once again , Stiles surprises everyone. Cause he's Stiles and he's awesome like that.

As days turned into weeks, the pack began to prepare for the next full moon. With a new wolf among them, none of them knew how it was going to go. Jackson still had a terrible time with aggression, and Scott wasn’t under complete control of his instincts now that he had to come up with an entirely new Anchor for his wolf. With Stiles being newly turned, the pack was tense with nervousness and worry. Everyone, that is, except for Stiles himself. 

Stiles knew the others were concerned about how the full moon was going to affect him. He could see them watching him diligently as the days came closer and closer to his first full change. But he himself knew that they had nothing to worry about. He knew what it would take to calm the wolf. It was stronger than any anchor, and more powerful than simple emotion. What calmed the wolf was acceptance. To know that it belonged. 

So when he finished making breakfast on the day of the full moon, he was smiling. He watched as they all sat down at the brand new dining table, knowing that today wasn’t going to be easy for any of them. He could already see Jackson’s wolf pacing inside of him, ready to break out and fight anyone who challenged it. Scott did his usual, which was sit in the shadows and scowl like a serial killer. Even Erica, Boyd, and Isaac seemed to twitch and jitter, like they were unable to sit still. But as he put the plates down in front of each member of the pack, he didn’t show any of his worry. He knew that by tonight’s shifting, somehow it would all work itself out. 

Finally, after two cups of coffee, Derek couldn’t stay silent anymore. He looked at Stiles with his intense stare and spoke. 

“How are you holding up? You seem calm and relaxed, but so did most of them before the first shift.”

Derek looked around the table.

“Hell , some of them are still like that. So don’t feel you should have to hide anything. The first time is always difficult.”

Stiles shrugged, looking at him with a grin. 

“Seriously, I have no idea what you’re all so worried about. I feel great. It’s a little bit tingly inside, like an oncoming sugar rush, but other than that, I feel fine.”

Scott mumbled from his seat, where he looked like he was ready to murder his toast by staring at it. 

“You don’t have to act brave just because you want to prove yourself to us, Stiles. Full moon is always rough the first few months.”

Stiles shook his head.

“I’m telling you I’m totally cool with what’s going to happen tonight. Besides, I hate to say it, guys. But I know way more about this then you did when you were turned. It gives me a secret weapon none of you have, with the exception of the born wolves at the table.”

Jackson finally spoke, glaring at Stiles like he wanted to choke him. 

“And what the fuck’s that suppose to mean, Stilinski. You think you’re better than us?”

Stiles sighed and shook his head.

“No, I don’t. I know the first shifting hurts, and people get scared. I know why you’re all staring at me lately like I am going to explode. But listen to my heart when I say this.”

He waited, giving them a moment to focus on his heart beat before he continued. 

“Werewolves and real wolves aren’t killers by nature. They are apex predators, yes, but the ones who know what it’s about aren’t out to commit murder. A werewolf is a hunter. They hunt prey, take it down and eat it, sure, but as a matter of survival. They never go after humans unless the human is a threat to their territory. That’s the truth of it. 

“The reason why you mostly have difficulty is because you’re too damn busy fighting your wolf. You want the human to dominate the wild spirit. You don’t trust your wolf to do what it knows by nature to do. I don’t fight it. I listen to my wolf, communicate with it, let it tell its own story. And in turn the wolf listens to me. It knows my concerns, my fears, and understands them in a way. It’s a part of me and I accept that. Some of you, like Scott here, are so doubtful, so mistrusting of your own inner animal you’d rather run from it then learn from it. And that’s why I can sit here and eat calmly without worry, and you can’t.”

Isaac bit his lip and raised his voice, throwing in a joke to break the tension he knew his statement would bring. 

“Alright, Mr. Rafiki, you have a point. But then what about Peter? He proved that if you listen too much to the wolf, you can go absolutely feral and bat shit crazy. What’s your answer for that?”

Stiles growled, his violet eyes glowing out of his face. Everyone drew back; worried he might flip out any second. 

“Alright, it’s really time to put this shit to rest. Let’s talk about Peter’s bout of murdering rage, shall we? Since that seems to hang over this pack like a dark cloud. Maybe by the end of this, you will finally get it through your thick skulls.”

He stood up and brought his empty dish to the sink, before turning around and facing the group. 

“Yes, Peter did some very, very bad things. He was mean, feral, and an all around murdering psycho. But did any of you ever wonder why he might have been that way? Did any of you take the time to question the real reason behind his insanity? I mean beyond the fact that it had to be the fire and what happened?”

He looked at the blank faces staring dumbly back at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I thought not. It’s so easy to just leave it there and let him be a bad guy forever. It must be blissful to live with that naïve simplicity. You’re the good guys, he’s the bad guy. It must feel great to put it in the box like that and put it away so you don’t have to look at it. But let me see if I can shake it up a little. I don’t like boxes and I hate simplicity. I want you to think about what I am saying as I say it, so you get a picture in your mind of what it might have been like from his point of view.”

He held one hand in the other behind his back and took a deep breath.

“In fact, except for Derek, I want all of you to close your eyes. Derek, maybe you should go for a walk or something. It’s still too raw for you and you’re just getting out of your guilt. Go on, take a long walk and come back in a bit. They should be fine for a little while without you, my Alpha.” 

Derek hesitated and then, seeing the wisdom of his sentinel, he nodded. Getting up, he left his plate in the sink and walked out the back door. Taking off his shirt, he dodged through alleyways and streets until he nearly reached the preserve. Once he was sure no one would see him, he donned his beta form and took off at a dead run. After all, born wolf or no, full moon meant extra energy to burn. 

Meanwhile at the house, Stiles waited until he was almost sure that Derek was out of ear shot. Then he looked at Peter. 

“Are you going to be okay with this? It’s your tragedy, after all.”

Peter put up a hand, waving away Stiles panic.

“I’ve lived my life and come to terms with what it means. I am fine.”

Finally he turned to the teenagers and spoke.

“Alright now, close your eyes and empty your brains as much as you can.”

Giving them a few minutes to do that, he continued. 

“Now I was you to imagine for a moment that you are spending a peaceful night together with most of your family. It’s one of those slow autumn days where nothing is going wrong. Your sister is just getting your twin nieces off to bed and the older children are watching cartoons. You are sitting there with your wife, your mate for life, who is pregnant with your child. Everything seems right with the world. You have your pack around you and nothing can take your happiness from you. Sure, the world is always filled with a little bit of danger, but with your pack ready to fight, defend, and protect, there is very little that can defeat you.”

Pausing to take a sip of water, he continued with his harrowing tale. 

“Later that night you wake up to realize something is very wrong. There is smoke all around you and you can here panicked screaming. You try to make sense of it, but this is an enemy you can’t defeat. So you run to the only safe place you know. You huddle around your family in the basement, hoping that you can escape through the cellar tunnel out into the forest. But the door is locked down tight, trapping you all in. A wall of fire blocks one way and hunters have now blocked the other. So now you are forced to watch your pack burn around you. 

“The little ones, they’re almost lucky. They die by smoke before the flames can touch them. But the adults don’t get that reprieve. There is only one small hope left. A tiny, barred window that you can try to bust through and escape. But it’s already too late by the time you break the bars away. The flames are too high. They’ve consume everyone you loved. All the pack bonds have snapped now, and you are still burning as you finally pull yourself out of the wreckage.”

His voice shuttered as he paused to swallow hard.

“Now you’re alone. You can’t tell anyone you aren’t catatonic. You can’t say that the reason you stop functioning is because something inside of you has vanished. You’ve been emptied everything that held you to life. A burned out, hollow husk of what you were just the day before. That’s how you remain, because you can’t escape the screams inside your mind. You can’t move, you can’t see, you can’t feel anything. But you can hear. You can hear the world around you. You can’t block out your ears. The sterile box you lived in is filled with every voice but the ones you long for.

“That’s how you are for six long years. But you can’t tell time, so it seems like forever. And finally in the dark you listen to the voice you used to know, but it makes no sense anymore. All you know is instinct now. The wolf howls out for power. It howls out for healing. And all you know is the voice before you has it.”

He looked around to see tears pouring down every face. Even Scott, the one with the most reason to hate Peter, had his face down as his shoulders shook in sadness. Stiles closed his eyes painfully, knowing that he had hurt his pack with the truth. He took their blindness away to show them the raw world that their young minds were just barely getting a grasp on. Swallowing his own tears down as he looked at Peter, he nodded. 

“So he had to live in that world for a while. His insanity was justified in a way, though he can’t escape the truth of what he’s done. With vengeance came more blood and he has to live with that forever.”

He stepped over to the radio and sighed.

“Days ago I heard a song that really captured me. But until right this moment, I had no idea why. But it really defines what he went through. It’s called ‘Bleeding Out’ and it spells his truth much more then I can. This is Peter’s Tribute.”

Hooking up his phone to one of the twenty high tech radios in the house, he scrolled down the list of recent downloads and found the song. Pressing play, he met Peter’s eyes again, clear understanding passing between them. Then he raised his voice and sang along with the song.

_I'm bleeding out._  
 _So if it's last thing that I do_  
 _Is bring you back,_  
 _I'll bleed out for you._

_So I bare my skin_  
 _And I count my sins_  
 _And I close my eyes_  
 _And I take it in_

_I'm bleeding out_  
 _I'm bleeding out for you,_  
 _For you._

_When the day has come_  
 _That I've lost my way around_  
 _And the seasons stop_  
 _And hide beneath the ground_

_When the sky turns gray_  
 _And everyone is screaming_  
 _I will reach inside_  
 _Just to see if my heart is beating_

_Oh, you told me to hold on_  
 _Oh, you told me to hold on_  
 _But innocence is gone_  
 _And what was right is wrong_

_I'm bleeding out._  
 _So if it’s last thing that I do_  
 _Is bring you back,_  
 _I'll bleed out for you._

_So I bare my skin_  
 _And I count my sins_  
 _And I close my eyes_  
 _And I take it in_

_I'm bleeding out_  
 _I'm bleeding out for you,_  
 _For you._

To his utter surprise, Peter picked up the second part of the song all by himself. His voice was rich and deep, much better then Stiles’ own. So he fell silent and let the man sing it his own way.

_When the hour is nigh_  
 _And hopelessness is sinking in_  
 _And the wolves all cry_  
 _To fill the night with their howling_

_When my eyes are red_  
 _And emptiness is all I know_  
 _With the darkness fed_  
 _I will be the scarecrow_  


_Oh, you told me to hold on_  
 _Oh, you told me to hold on_  
 _But innocence is gone_  
 _And what was right is wrong_

_I'm bleeding out._  
 _So if it’s last thing that I do_  
 _Is bring you back,_  
 _I'll bleed out for you._

_So I bare my skin_  
 _And I count my sins_  
 _And I close my eyes_  
 _And I take it in_

_I'm bleeding out_  
 _I'm bleeding out for you,_  
 _For you._

As the song faded, the pack gathered around Peter and whimpers echoed in their throat. It was his tragedy brought to life around him. And in their close pack bonds, Peter found a kind of hope. He could slowly begin to heal now. The burnt out pack bond so long ago ripped away by vengeful hunting bitches began to knit back together. One day he could be completely whole again. 

As Derek walked back in and silently joined the hug, Peter looked at Stiles with wet eyes and bowed his head. Stiles, the only one not in the hug, bowed his head in return. It may have been silent, but the gratitude was no less profound. 

Inside all of them, deeper than anyone could see, the bonds of family and pack began to wind tighter into place. And their wolves slowly began to find peace for the first time, together.

\--------------------------------------------------------

As the sky began to darken and moon rise grew closer, the pack made their way deep into the Preserve. Save for Erica, who had on a sports bra, they were all shirtless. Loose sweat pants covered their bottom half and they all shed their shoes as they picked a spot to change for the night. All around the clearing, the sound of stretched limbs and cracking bones could be heard as the wolves came alive in their blood. And as the moon shined down full on their clearing, they all turned towards Stiles and waited for his change to come on. New wolves always took a little longer. 

Stiles sighed as he stretched his arms above his head. Then he stilled, his head tilted as if he was listening to something that they couldn’t hear. Finally he nodded and began to tug his pants and underwear off. 

Derek took a hold of his arm and looked at him with shock.

“Stiles, what are you doing?!”

Stiles growled and pulled his arm away.

“I’m listening to my wolf. It’s telling me to have no clothes. Just let me do this. You’ll see. It’s not going to be bad, I promise. The wolf knows what its doing.”

Derek backed up and Stiles finished undressing. Staring up at the sky to keep from getting embarrassed, he handed his body over to the animal inside and let it take the lead. In a few seconds, he could tell this first shift was going to hurt. But he breathed with the pain and let the shift take over. 

The rest of the pack watched in horrified awe as they heard bones begin to snap inside Stiles’ body. Fur took over his body and his fingers seemed to grow inward into paws. They watched in silence as a tail grew from his back and he got down on all fours. His legs shorted and reformed. And with a final cry turned howl of pain, Stiles stood before them, fully changed into a reddish black wolf. 

The wolf before them panted as it waited for its shaky limbs to settle. Then shaking itself out, it walked up to Derek and sat at his feet, yipping once before licking his left foot in greeting. 

“Stiles, are you in there?”

If the wolf could, it would have rolled it’s eyes. But instead it gave an odd nod of it’s head and yipped again. 

It was Peter who spoke next.

“How is that possible? Even born wolves find it difficult to shift into full wolf. Bitten wolves changing into full form is so rare, there is only one documented case in the last two hundred years. How did you it?”

Stiles looked at Peter and growled, unable to speak with words. Then he looked at Derek and stared piercingly into his eyes. Derek knew immediately what that look meant. Stiles was trying to say _’Do you trust me?_ . Derek gave a silent nod and waited to see what happened next. 

Suddenly, Stiles grabbed Derek’s wrist in his mouth and bite down hard, holding on for a moment. Letting go, he licked the wound in apology and sat back, as if waiting for something.

Derek’s red eyes blazed as he glared down at the wolf.

“What was that f…”

Mid-sentence, Derek felt it. He felt the wolf within literally trying to climb out of his skin. Then he looked up at Peter.

“I think it’s his spark. The wolf is using it like we use our claws to share memories. It’s like he taught my wolf how to take full form. I think he can do it for you too, but it’ll have to wait. It seems to take energy from him, and the wolf is too wild to constantly focus the magic. Now let’s see if I can do this.”

Closing his eyes, Derek let the wolf take over, just as Stiles had done not five minutes ago. Within a few bone crunching minutes, where Derek stood was a raven black wolf with glowing red eyes. Not like Peter’s alpha form, but a fully grown wolf. It was bigger than its pack mate, being an alpha, but not by much. It loped around its pack mates a few times before he stood next to stiles and barked a few times, as if trying to say something. 

Scott scratched carefully at the side of his face and looked at Peter.

“What’s he saying?”

Peter huffed in annoyance.

“Do I look like I speak wolf, you imbecilic child? I have no idea what he’s saying.”

Stiles yipped again, grabbing everyone’s attention. Then running back and forth a few times, he stopped and waved a paw towards the woods. Derek barked in tandem with Stiles’ little example and waited for the rest of his pack to catch on. 

Isaac looked at them wide eyed and spoke quietly.

“I think they want us to run like we always do as a pack. But Derek has to lead.”

Wagging his tail like an overgrown puppy, Stiles barked once and letting Derek go ahead, he followed, running full out behind his Alpha. 

Without further words, the pack gathered as one and followed them. It was time to let the wolves free to roam. 

It was time to hunt, to play, and to be a pack. 

\--------------------------------

Alone in his home, one the southern edge of the Preserve, Alan Deaton stared out at the moonlit sky, taking in the ambiance of the night. Remembering a time when he watched Talia cross in front of his window and howl a greeting at him with her pack at her heals. He missed the former Hale Pack in all its wild beauty. 

But just as he went to turn away, two howls broke through the silence of the night. One was clearly deeper than the other, but they both sounded like real wolves. Werewolves in beta form roared rather than howled.

Turning to the moon once more, his eyes clouded over and he stared sightless into the forest. A few seconds later, his eyes cleared and he gave a smile.

“Good Boy, Stiles. You show them the way to be a true pack. I told you you have a powerful Spark. And you are using it so well. I expect great things from you.”

As if to answer him, out of the darkness, the howl sounded again.


	7. My Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes through a roller coaster of emotions as the omega who nearly killed him comes to seek him out again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I struggled with this chapter for at least two weeks. It wasn't easy to write and even harder to complete. To me, it's complete crap, but I'm the writer who never likes her work anyway, so I'm bias like that. I will let my readers decide. To me it feels like this chapter fought with me the whole way. I'm just sorry it took so long for me to get it to you.

Stiles sat in his room three nights later, tunes coming out of the speakers attached to his laptop. His father had another night shift tonight, which left him alone in the house. He’d spent a good two hours on Google already and now he was restless. Though his ADHD had calmed somewhat since his change, the wolf inside him gave him endless ropes of energy. Stiles knew that was always dangerous for someone like him. So, deciding to use that energy towards a non-lethal workout, he began stretching out, doing jumping jacks and push-ups to drain a little of the excess inside his body. 

That was when he noticed something was off. Lowering down his radio, he tilted his head and listened. His wolf was cagey, pacing inside of him as if trying to tell him something. That was when he smelt them. Going to his window, he could see the shadow standing out on the side of his house. And there were more. He counted ten heartbeats all around his property. A small shuffling on his roof set him on edge. These were werewolves, he could tell. And they were definitely not his pack. His wolf growled inside of him, pushing at his skin to break out. The wolves around him were too wild, too desperate, and too violent to be any ordinary wolf pack. 

It was a pack of omegas. 

He would be more surprised if strange shit hadn’t been happening in Beacon Hills over the last three years. Truth was, he didn’t even flinch at the weirdness. He was too busy getting into action to dare let it startle him. He couldn’t howl for his pack; the enemy would hear it. But he could still signal them. Grabbing his phone and putting down the sound all the way, he got ready to send out the distress signal that would alert the others. 

That was when he smelt something that was familiar to him now. The omega that attacked him in the woods. He might’ve been human at the time, but his wolf knew it. His spark flared under his skin as his eyes burned purple. Holding back a growl, he fought for control. He needed the beta form now. Changing into a full wolf would trap him in his room and he knew that would be bad with ten enemies circling around his father’s den. Taking a deep breath, he typed out a clear message on his phone to Scott. Since he couldn’t use voice commands right now, Scott was the only number he knew without having to think about it. Scott would alert the others. 

Hearing the window in his father’s room break, he licked a fang and waited. That was when a voice began to speak. The voice of the wolf that nearly killed him. 

“I know you’re in here, little wolf. I knew Alpha Hale would be forced to turn you after our little match in the woods. It’s what I wanted. See, I could smell the power in you. I could taste it in your blood when I licked it off my claws that night. I was human once, just like you were. Then the pack I thought I had threw me out after turning me. Can you believe that? Just because I was not able to be controlled. I was a Spark, just like you once. But when they bit me, it was torn out of me. So I went a little insane. They cast me out; banished me from my home. All because they wouldn’t listen.” 

Stiles heard claws scrape against the wall as the omega continued. 

“But when I saw you, I knew you were going to be special. So I attacked you enough that they would have to turn you. I knew that your pack would eventually leave you alone, just like my pack did to me. That’s how my pack was just before they cast me out. Sparks aren’t supposed to be turned, they said. It messes with the wolf; makes it too powerful. This is why I am going to make you an offer.”

Stiles heard the omega come up on the opposite side of his door and scrape his claws down it. 

“Come join our pack instead. Yours is only going to throw you away eventually when they realize how powerful you are. So join with us. There’s no alpha to make demands, no rules to follow, and no one to tell you how and when you can use your spark. We take what we want, we hunt what we want and we do what we want. How does that sound?”

Stiles went to speak before he heard a noise by his window. Help had finally arrived. But his eyes opened wide when he saw who it was. It wasn’t Scott or Derek or Peter. In fact, it wasn’t any of his pack. It was Chris Argent, standing there with a bloody knife in his hand, holding a finger to his lip. Stiles nodded, keeping his unexpected savior a secret for now. 

Another scrape against the door put his attention back where it belonged.

“What’s the matter little wolf? Are you contemplating the pros and cons? Trying to build up the courage to finally be free of your witless pack of teenagers? I won’t wait forever. So how about this instead? Come with us, or get your throat ripped out by me and my pack. Your choice.”

Stiles saw the door knob turn and stepped out of Chris’s way as he saw the former hunter get ready to throw the knife. Then it was seconds covered in chaos and blood. Before he could blink, Chris’s knife had buried itself in the omega’s arm, pinning it to the wall. A roar of pain rocked the house before everything went dead silent. Finally Stiles decided to speak.

“First of all, breaking and entering is rude. Second, my pack would never abandon me. They know the meaning of the word “Pack”. Something I am sure you never took the time to learn. Third, never underestimate your opponent. It gets you killed.”

The omega snarled as he tried to dislodge the knife from the wall. 

“You work with fuckin’ hunters? You’re a traitor to your own kind.”

Chris raised an eye brow at Stiles and shook his head as if to say _’does this guy ever shut up’_

But they were interrupted by Peter, whose hand circled around the omega’s throat. 

“You are more a traitor to our kind then any one of us. You would try to lure away newly turned werewolves all for the sake of your own vengeance. I did that once too. But I was insane and my pack burned in front of me. What’s your excuse?”

The omega growled and choked out his words. 

“You left him alone without anyone to protect him. Is it my fault if he was unprotected just because he was human? Don’t blame your stupidity on me. Be glad I left him alive enough for you to turn. He’s going to be more powerful then you can imagine. And one day when your Alpha realizes he can’t be brought to heel, he’ll abandon him all over again. Better he goes with us now then to end up alone later.”

Stiles was about to refuse when the Omega broke away from the wall and lashed out at him. The filthy claws dug across his chest, the smell of his blood filling the air around him. Finally, unable to take the taunts to his pack, or the pain he’d already suffered at the hands of this Omega, he looked at Peter with blaze purple jade eyes and growled the words out of his mouth. 

“Take him to the back yard. No one is to touch him, Assassin. His blood is mine to spill. Are we agreed?”

Peter bowed his head, his hands now wrapped strongly around the omega’s throat and wrists.

“I understand my sentinel. No one will lay a finger on him unless The Alpha says otherwise. He is yours.”

Waiting until Peter dragged the stranger wolf out of the house, Stiles turned to Chris as raised a brow. 

“I never thought I would say this after what Gerard did to me, but am I ever glad to see you. When did you stroll back into town?”

“Just an hour ago, in fact. Allison is down stairs with Scott most likely. Your message came just as we were rolling up to the McCall residence. I don’t know what you told Scott exactly, but he jumped off the roof onto the hood of our car. If it wasn’t for Allison stopping me, I probably would have shot him out of shock. We met Derek on the way somehow, and here we are.”

Stiles smiled, not at all worried about this particular hunter. Out of all the crazy people trying to kill them, Chris had proven he had an extreme sense of honor. As they walked out of the room and down the stairs, Stiles couldn’t keep his curiosity to himself.

“So, where have you been these last few months? Allison said you were both going to Paris before you left.”

Chris shrugged.

“We did spend a week there, but the prices were outrageous. So we headed over to Mexico. Met up with a family of hunters there known as the Calaveras. They hold strict to the code. And they knew that certain Argents had strayed too far from the path, so to speak. So Allison and I stayed with them for a while. It was good training. How have you been, though? Definitely not as human as we left you. How did that happen?

As they stepped out into the backyard, Stiles pointed to the Omega, who was now bound rather tightly to a tree, the pack surrounding him. The other nine omegas were huddled into a group, looking dirty, worn, and tired. 

“See that guy there. Well about a month back, he decided that me being pack human was something he couldn’t accept. So I was dragged from my car, attacked, beaten, and nearly killed. There was about to be no more Stiles. So Derek gave me the bite, like I told him too if I happened to be dying. So now, here I am.”

Chris nodded.

“I sometimes wish my wife had been strong enough not to want to kill herself. But that’s the life of a hunter. Still, you seem to be taking it better then I remember Scott taking it when he was first turned.”

Stiles shrugged as he made to step away. 

“Yeah, well, he didn’t spend ninety-five percent of the last three years researching werewolf lore either. It hit him by surprise back when we knew nothing. Still, he finally pulled his head out of his butt so…not so much of a fail-wolf anymore. You should go easy on him. All that shit with your family…yeah, he went through it with you. Just…don’t judge him because he’s a werewolf who happens to be so obviously in love with your teenage daughter.”

Before Chris could respond, Stiles walked ahead of him. Shaking his head, the hunter decided that they would have to continue the conversation some other time. 

Stiles was about to speak when their bound prisoner once again opened his mouth.

“You wouldn’t take my offer, so I am going to give you some advice instead, little wolf. Something I am sure your Alpha never filled you in on. You should know the truth after all.”

Stiles decided that every person, were or otherwise, deserved their right of last words, so he let the stranger continue.

“Once, my pack and the Hale pack were allies. We knew each other well. I was a boy when I met their pack for the first time. You think you know them so well. Do you want to know how I know you? Through your mother, boy. That’s right. She was an Emissary just like that crack-pot vet of theirs. The last time we saw them, your mother came to visit their alpha. She mentioned something about cancer. Their alpha actually offered her the bite. She refused. Do you know why she refused?”

Stiles remained silent; his fists held so tight, blood scent filled the air. 

“She said that she didn’t want to be a werewolf because she was too afraid of hurting you or your father. But you want to know what I think. I think they knew exactly what power she held, and that’s why they offered. I heard them later that night, talking with my former Alpha. Wondering if they should push the bite on her. They spoke about her potential and how it was such a shame that it would be wasted.

“I think your mother saw right through the Hales though. She saw them for exactly what they were. Greedy, power-hungry monsters who wanted to bite her to use her. That’s why she refused. She chose to die human instead of being what they would have made her, which was probably going to be some kind of magical slave to use whenever they wanted.”

Then the omega said something that snapped Stiles control completely. 

“I’m glad they’re all dead. They deserved to burn for their greed. And I think that you are betraying your mother’s memory by staying with the two remaining Hales instead of leaving them to come with me. Your mother would hate you now if she could see what you’ve become. A fucking lapdog for a bunch of power hungry mongrels. You should be glad that she’s dead so that she doesn’t have to see what you are. You should be ashamed.”

Everything around Stiles was painted red as the wolf broke out of his body with a mighty howl. But this was not the prancing puppy everyone in the pack had seen on the full moon. Between the primal energy and his spark, Stiles was twice the size he would normally be in wolf form. His eyes were pitch black and ghostly blue fire surrounded his form. Everyone, even Derek, took a step back as they watch the change take him over. It was an awesome but terrifying sight to see. 

Mad with rage and grief, the wolf inside of Stiles took over completely. This was enemy, omega, meat to be wasted. With an angry, roaring howl, he leapt at the omega and in blind hatred, ripped the tied werewolf apart viciously. Even with nothing but a puddle of bloody flesh and bone, he still clawed at it, snarling as he shook his head back and forth. When Derek finally approached him to try and calm him down, Stiles actually snapped at him, growling harshly in his throat. This was his kill, and no one, not even his Alpha, had the right to separate him from it. 

Finally it was Scott who was the voice of reason. Hiding Allison’s face in his chest so she wouldn’t have to watch his best friend go feral, he spoke with a shaky calm.

“There is only one person right now that can bring Stiles back from this. Call his dad and explain the situation. Stiles told me that his dad was his anchor. His dad can bring his humanity back. He won’t listen to anyone else right now. Not about this. Not when it’s about his mother.”

Isaac, who had arrived right after the fight was over, chose to be the one who would call. But before he left the back yard, he looked between Derek, Peter, and Chris.

“I’ll call Stiles Dad. But I think that everyone other then Derek and Scott should leave. And someone please do something with those omegas. I doubt the Sherriff will be happy to see the people that broke into his house and put his son in this state. Even if they barely had anything to do with it.”

As Isaac went inside to make the call, Chris decided he would round up the rouges and send them to someone who would help them find their old packs to take them back. Most of them looked younger than his Daughter, and Chris felt a certain sort of pity for their obvious lack of care and neglect. 

It was only after most of the others left that Derek turned to Peter and spoke. 

“Did any of that actually happen? Did mom offer Stiles’ mom the bite?”

Peter shrugged.

“Talia saw that her friend was ill and with a young child and husband, she didn’t think Claudia deserved to die so young. But Stiles mother knew her fate and accepted what was to come. She didn’t want the bite because she believed it would make her something other than what she always was. As far as her powers were concerned, we knew only that Alan and her were a vicious pair to cross before she got ill. But the conversation the omega might have heard had to little to do with that. Your mother thought she would make a very powerful healer to the pack, and wondered if she should try to press her offer on Claudia again. But that had nothing to do with her abilities as an emissary. 

“Claudia knew more about plants and herbs that could help werewolves than Alan himself did. Her grandfather happened to be something of a wiccan botanist. She showed us the book he passed down to her once. The information was priceless. But that’s all the conversation was about. It ended shortly thereafter and was never mentioned again.”

They both fell silent, contemplating the past. Then, so as not to disturb Stiles, Peter silently turned and left the house, leaving Derek and Scott alone to wait for John Stilinski to finally come home.

\-------------------------------------------------

When John finally got home twenty minutes later, he slowly walked out the back door, leaving his weapons on the kitchen counter. Even if his son was feral, shooting him was out of the question. Without saying a word to Derek or Scott, he stepped closer to the hunched over wolf now situated in the corner of the yard, praying that he wasn’t about to get his head ripped off. 

“Stiles, son, do you know who I am? Can you remember me?”

Stiles lifted his lupine head and stared out from still black eyes. The wild creature knew that voice. It was the voice of elder. The voice of Kin. Father. Taking a moment to try and focus on the humanity inside him, he slowly stood and walked up to the human man, his head bowed low. Taking a sniff to make sure it wasn’t a trick, the wolf that was Stiles sat at his father’s feet, the black running away from his eyes. Whimpering in his throat, the wolf put his head to the human’s leg, ears back and form hunched.

Without looking at the two boys in back of him, John spoke to them in a low, barely audible voice.

“What is he doing? He looks…sad.”

Derek spoke just loud enough for John to hear. 

“He is saying he’s sorry. This is how a wolf apologizes when it knows it’s done something its pack mates don’t approve of. Though he killed what he deemed a threat to his pack, he still killed a person. Werewolf or not, he killed someone. He knows you don’t like that he killed anyone at all, threat or no. So, he is trying to make up for his mistake. And he knows once he faces me, he will have to be punished. He won’t return to human until he is satisfied that he has paid his dues.”

John cringed. He hated seeing his son so defeated. 

“Is there any way for him to turn back into Stiles without a punishment? I hate to think that just because he was protecting his mother’s memory, he has to be penalized for it.”

Derek sighed.

“I don’t like it either, John. I hate that I have to be a strict Alpha by making him show throat for something I think he had a right to do. But on top of the fact that he never asked to kill the omega, he also snapped at me. Right now he is every bit his wolf and a strong pack always has an innate sense of justice. His wolf thinks it did the right thing, but that it didn’t do it the right way. Until it’s paid for its mistakes, the wolf won’t let the human come back. In its mind, the wolf knows the human had little to do with its actions. The human shouldn’t have to pay the price for its crimes. By staying a wolf until the cost is paid in full, it is protecting its own human. That’s why Stiles’ humanity won’t return just yet.”

John gulped hard and sighed. Stiles’ the human had a strong sense of justice too. The night after he returned home, Stiles had sat down with his father and spilled the whole story about the last three years. After a deafening silence that lasted longer than it should have, Stiles had handed his cell phone, computer, video game console, and car keys over to his father before going to bed. 

When the morning came, he never asked how long he was to be grounded or when he was allowed out again. He had gone about his day like he normally would. It had taken John sitting him down and working through everything slowly before Stiles broke down in his father’s arms. After that, John hadn’t had the heart to ground his son. In his mind, Stiles suffered enough in the last three years and didn’t deserve any more of a punishment. Especially after the night a few months ago where he’d gotten drunk and nearly threw his son out of the house after almost losing his job. 

He was brought back to the present when he felt Stiles leave his side and belly crawl to Derek. Just seeing his son so defeated and submissive broke his heart. This was the active, lively, independent and sarcastic boy who didn’t take shit from no one. The father’s heart inside him ached to see how his son was hurting. 

Derek looked up with a somber expression.

“John, you should take Scott and go inside. This is not going to be easy to see.”

John shook his head.

“No. If I’m in the pack, than I am in it completely. Stiles being who he is, this won’t be the last time he is in this dilemma. Better that I get used to it now. Especially if I’m going to be pack elder.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be shot for this. And this is the one time that even as his father, you can’t interfere.”

John looked at Derek with determination.

“I may not know much about werewolves, Alpha Hale, but I know about humans. That is my son. It’s my right. Besides my gun is in the house, so you’re safe from me as long as you don’t make him bleed.”

Derek sighed internally, giving an understanding nod to the Sherriff. He couldn’t fault the man for wanting full disclosure on pack dynamics, particularly when his own son was involved. It hadn’t been anywhere near easy for his mother when she had to punish a wayward pup for their mistakes. So in her memory, he took a centering breath before turning to look down at Stiles with the red eyes of an Alpha who was not happy. 

Grabbing Stiles up by his scruff, he dragged him over to what remained of the omega’s corpse. 

“You did wrong, Sentinel. You not only lost control in front of our pack, but you didn’t give a quick death. While I can’t fault you for protecting your pack, you have shamed yourself and me with your lack of control.”

He watched Stiles carefully as he left go of his scruff. The wolf turned on his back, showing his full belly to his Alpha as he whimpered in his throat. 

Derek simply growled at him in disapproval. Then, taking beta form, he bent down and bit hard on the front of Stiles’ throat. It didn’t draw blood, but it enough to send his message home. Growling one last time, he stood up with a glare.

“Bury this mess, you insolent puppy. Then you stay out here until I decide you can come back in. Next time maybe you will think twice before you shame your pack by losing control.”

Turning around, Derek steeled himself once more not to turn back and comfort the whimpering form of his newest pack member. Walking towards the house, he saw John follow him out the corner of his eye. He knew it was hard on the man, and offered him support the only way he could. He patted John’s shoulder in silent understanding. 

But Scott lagged behind. He didn’t want to leave his brother friend. His wolf pulled at him, begging him to go to the slumped figure and give comfort. 

Derek’s voice pulled him from his staring match.

“Scott, don’t. Come inside. Now!”

Scott heard the voice of his Alpha but he struggled, torn in two different directions.

“But…”

“You can’t help him now, Scott. He has to face this alone. It’s not just about punishment. Out of all of us, Stiles is the one with the deepest moral code. He has taken a life. The life of an enemy, yes, but it is still murder. There is nothing we can do until he accepts that and comes to terms with it.”

Scott walked to Derek in the kitchen and damn near wolf whined.

“But he didn’t mean to. That omega bad-mouthed his mother. If someone had something about my mom, I would…”

John spoke up, wanting to help them both.

“Son, I am one-hundred percent with you on that fact. But even with all his bluster and sarcasm, Derek is right about Stiles. My boy cherishes life wholeheartedly. He might understand why someone has to die, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Take Peter for example. 

“Now, granted, I had no idea of the full story at the time. But there was a period after the night I found Kate Argents body that Stiles got very little sleep. He may have thought he was hiding it well, but I know that boy like the back of my own hand. I caught him a few times in the early morning running to the bathroom to vomit. I’ve seen Stiles in a feared and panicked state before, so I know the symptoms well enough. He had all of them. And after knowing that he threw a Molotov cocktail at a feral werewolf and watched as a dying man burned for it, I understand why he was in that state. It had to be terrible for him, living with that and the lying on his shoulders. Not to mention trying to help you and Derek work together on the whole affair. Trust me, the best thing we can do for Stiles right now is let him make peace with himself. He needs this more right now then our pity.”

Scott fell silent after that. What else could be said? Sighing in misery, he put his chin on his folded arms and waited until Derek said the time was right to go to Stiles. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Three hours later, their waiting was finally over. Almost too quietly to for wolf ears to hear, the sound of Stiles crying in the backyard reached the werewolves like a knife in the heart. Slowly standing, Derek ushered them all outside, carrying a blanket with him. Stiles never had time to strip before he changed, so they all knew he would be naked. 

Bending down to the curled up figure on the ground, he wrapped Stiles in the blanket and cradled him to his body. Slowly rocking the weeping figure back and forth, he turned to Scott and spoke quietly. 

“Howl, Scott. Call them here. Don’t bother to use the phone this time. Just call them here alright. It might wake some people, but the pack will understand it clearer than any message you can text them. The neighbors will probably think someone’s watching a horror film this time of night.”

Scott nodded and walked into the house so that no one could look out and see him shift. Then standing in front of John’s broken bedroom window, he shifted and got down on all fours. Giving the moment full throat, he leaned his head back and gave his beta roar. The pack would know what it meant. 

 

Not twenty minutes later, Stiles still tearing, half asleep form was surrounded by a mass of warm bodies as the pack gathered around him in the Stilinski living room. Even his father was curled up on the sofa, his hand gently resting on his son’s arm. 

The warm comfort of his pack couldn’t take away what he’d done. But now at least the darkness in his heart from the taint of blood wouldn’t wound him as deeply. 

Shuttering one last time in the arms of his new family, Stiles gave into sleep and finally allowed his tired and painful heart to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? * Sighs* I can't judge my own work, I really can't. It will never be good enough to me. 
> 
> And next chapter will be much lighter. I promise.


	8. Harder and Harder to Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up mighty sore. Whats a horny boy to do...oh that's right. Scream in agony. But maybe just maybe someone in the pack has a cure for what ails him. Doctor Saves-A-lot is on the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a girl no doubt about that. A bi-gender one, but woely female none the less. Lets just say during the writing of this chapter, even I grabbed myself in sympathy. Poor Stiles can never catch a break. 
> 
> And see that there. I gave away one of my secrets. You don't like it; I don't care. "Mutant and Proud." Waits...thats another genre. Oh well. My muses are all over the place. I told them to stay away from strange purple flowers. They rebels though, so they never listen.

A week after what the pack called _’the omega incident’_ , Stiles was sleeping restlessly in his bed. He tossed and turned, writhing like a snake in its death throes before opening his eyes with a groan. He was extremely hot, his own pajamas sticking to him as sweat covered his body. Something was seriously wrong with him, and in true Stiles fashion, he hated not knowing what it was. 

He knew werewolves didn’t get sick without some serious poison, so he knew it wasn’t your average fever. And he didn’t seem to have any other symptoms that went along with any illness that he recognized. So, stumbling to the bathroom, he slowly got out of his sweaty clothes and turned the shower on. He made sure the water was tepid instead of what he normally liked, which was damned near scalding. He tried not to make too much noise as he climbed in, knowing his father was sleeping right now. But he had to try and cool off, sleeping father or not.

It wasn’t until he woke up enough to get his brain working that he realized something else was wrong. He was extremely horny. Not the kind of horny one would get from staring at porno or a person of sexy hotness. But the kind that he didn’t even have a name for. He didn’t even have to look down to know his penis was swelled at the base. Thinking it was a weird case of werewolf hormones with all the sweating and knotting, he decided that the easiest fix for his current problem was to just take himself in hand and finish the job his body started. He grumbled in his mind as he began a comfortable pace. Freaky werewolf body chemistry.

But as the minutes turned to an hour, he was struggling just to stand. Nothing was working. He tried every trick he could think of to get off, but to no avail. He’d even gone for the finger up the butt trick, but it proved futile. And to make matters worse, his wolf was literally howling inside of him for reasons he couldn’t even fathom. 

He turned off the now ice cold water and stepped out, drying off as carefully as he could with shaky limbs. Biting his lip not to make any more noise, he slowly wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way down stairs. Opening up the freezer with all the silence of a stealth ninja, he took the first thing he could find, a frozen bag of veggies, and made his way back up stairs. He lay back down on his bed, and biting his lip, buried the frozen bag between his legs, trying desperately not to scream as the ice touched his sensitive parts. Waiting for five minutes until the numbness set in, he pulled a thin sheet over himself and finally fell into another restless sleep. He would think about his problem in the morning.

\-------------------------------------------

As morning light came through his newly installed window, John Stilinski slowly stretched and opened his eyes, taking in the new day. He thought he heard raining sometime last night, but given the fact that everything was dry, he thought he must of have been dreaming. Wondering if Stiles was up yet and had coffee ready, he slowly made his way to his personal bathroom for his morning ablutions. 

He was almost to the door when a screaming growl from Stiles’ room nearly made him pee on himself. Forcing himself to hold his bladder, he threw on a robe and ran into his son’s room, his body and mind fully alert. Stiles never screamed like that outside a serious nightmare or some serious pain.

“Stiles, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?”

Tears streaming down his face, Stiles barely gathered up his voice to speak as he struggled to open his eyes and look at his father. 

“I don’t know. It hurts Dad. Oh my ….FUCK IT HURTS!!”

John looked his boy up and down frantically, trying to see the problem. 

“What hurts? Are you bleeding or something?”

Not really caring about common decency at the moment, Stiles threw his sheet off, one hand still buried between his legs. Trying desperately to swallow the pain, he moved his hand and stretched his legs out enough to give his father a full view of his genitalia.

John hissed when he saw the purplish-red, swollen thing that was supposed to be his sons private parts. Nothing about that looked natural. 

“Good Christ, Stiles. We have to get you to the hospital. I’ve never seen anything like that. Did you get kicked or something?”

Stiles shook his head. 

“I woke up last night like this. It wasn’t this bad though. I just thought with ice it would go away. Now it’s worse. The hospital can’t do anything for this dad. It’s some sort of werewolf thing. Call Deaton or Derek. Call someone. It hurts.”

John patted his sons head, feeling the heat coming off him. 

“Alright. Let me pee and get some more ice for you. Then we’ll call someone to help. You just hang in there kiddo. We’ll get this fixed, I promise.”

John raced to the nearest bathroom to take the fastest morning wiz he had ever taken in his life. Then he raced down stairs to pick up his charged cell phone and two ice packs from the freezer. Racing back upstairs as fast as his middle-aged body could get him, he stepped into Stiles room and approached his curled up son again. 

“You need to uncurl a little bit, Kiddo. I have the ice packs for you, but I can’t help you if you stay like that.”

Stiles grit his teeth as he spoke. 

“No, Dad. I’ll…”

“Stiles, I used to wipe that butt when you were in diapers. Nothing you have will bother me right now. I’m your father. Let me help you.”

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Stiles uncurled just enough for his father to place the ice packs where they needed to be. 

Holding his son as firmly as possible to keep him uncurled, John carefully placed the ices packs one below the other on his son’s groin. He listened with painful sympathy as his son growled at the shock of cold that hit him all at once. It took ten minutes, but Stiles finally calmed down enough for him to put his phone to good use. He petted his son’s sweaty head as he made the calls to Derek and Deaton, trying to offer what little comfort he could. 

Finally, after both calls were finished, Stiles raised his head and spoke up, glancing at his father’s own private areas.

“Uh, Dad?”

John looked at him warmly.

“Yeah?”

Stiles cleared his throat, the ice numbing his pain enough for him to speak clearly. 

“Unless you want them to see your own ‘weapon of mass destruction’, you might want to conceal it. Not that I care, but Derek and Deaton might think you’re ‘armed and deadly’ if you leave it out for them to see.”

“Weapon of Mass…”

John looked down and turned red, seeing his own penis just hanging out of his boxer shorts like a sad, slumped soldier. He turned redder and put himself away, standing up to close his robe.

“Thanks son. I wouldn’t want them to think I’m a terrorist threat. It might scar them for life.”

Stiles gave him a shaky smile and coughed out a raspy laugh.

“Probably. You should have seen Peter’s face the first time he saw mine. I was having a werewolf mass break down in the shower just before I came home one day and he had to help me out of it. Let’s just say he is still wondering about the Stilinski effect on male penile mass and length.”

John shook his head and chuckled as he sat beside his son to wait for the help that was coming. 

“Good Fancy Gods, Kiddo. I just…I definitely don’t want to know.”

\-----------------------------------------

Finally Deaton showed up, not even bothering to knock as he made his way into the house and up the stairs. John had already told him to come in when he got here, so he made plenty of noise on the steps just to let them both know he was coming. Stepping into Stiles room, he set his bag down on the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

“Hello Sherriff and son. Forgive me for the slight delay. I had a dog in the middle of surgery and had to finish sewing. As the dog in question was just fixed, I thought it best I finish before he lost more than his owner wanted him too.”

Stiles and John cringed.

“Well Dr. Saves-A-Lot, it’s funny you should say that. Because frankly, if the problem I’m having isn't worked out, you won’t have to fix this puppy. My balls will fall off all on their own.”

Deaton nodded, opening his bag and drawing out a few things. He began filling a needle with something to help werewolf levels of pain as he spoke. 

“So I’ve heard. First I am going to give you a tincture to help with the pain and then we can take a look at the problem as a whole. How does that sound.”

Stiles blinked and, unable to help his lack of brain to mouth filter, said the only thing to came to mind.

“Pain medication would be great. But just so we’re clear about everything, there is nothing at all wrong with my hole. It’s healthy and in good working order. So we can just live my hole out of this, alright. One em-bare-ass-ing condition is enough; is what I think.”

Deaton gave a subtle nod.

“I will take that under advisement during my examination. I spent some part of yesterday with a poor dog suffering with a badly prolapsed colon. So to hear that you suffer no such ailments of the rectal region is very good news.” 

John spoke up, swallowing hard.

“Oh god, that poor dog. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”

As Deaton bent to swab a place on Stiles right thigh, he nodded.

“Nor would you want to. I imagine it was quite sore by the time I had him up on my table.”

After the needle was drawn out of Stiles skin, Deaton carefully removed the ice pack and set them aside. Normally a stoic man in the face of angry supernaturals, even his face crinkled in the wake of what he saw lying between the teenager’s legs.

“You said this started in the early morning, correct? Any other symptoms?”

Stiles sighed in relief, feeling some of the agony fade away into nothing. 

“Well, I was sweating pretty profusely. And I felt like everything around me was at two-hundred degrees. 

Deaton nodded, went to his bag again and withdrew a small pouch. 

“John, do me a favor, would you? Spread this in front of Stiles’ window and his bed room door. Then, after you wash your hands, I want you to wait for Derek downstairs and tell him he can’t come up until I am done with my examination. I am almost certain I know what this is, but I don’t want him up here. And also call Scott. I’ll need him as a basis for comparison.”

John nodded and did as he was told; spreading what he didn’t know was mountain ash by the window and door. Before leaving, he tied the pouch closed and stepped out of the room, leaving Deaton and Stiles alone.

“So doc, what’s going on?”

“Well, it seems to me, Mr. Stilinski, that your wolf has gone into what is referred to as mating heat. What this means is that your wolf knows who its mate is and has decided to be pushy about what it wants. This is rather surprising as most bitten wolves take a few years before they up and decide to push for a mate. It also means that your mate is somewhere within the pack. I chose the two likeliest candidates based on what I know of the pack. Though Scott is in love with his huntress, they aren’t exactly mated. And Derek has never had a mate. The rest of the pack is different. Jackson knows Lydia is his mate whether he wants to accept it or not. Boyd and Erica are already mated. And Isaac is too young.”

“What about Peter? Or did his mate die in the fire? I know wolves usually mate for life.”

“Peter is a different case altogether. While his first mate died in the fire, Peter is free to mate again. The truth is, Peter already knows who his second mate is, and has decided to take it extremely slow for good reasons I can not reveal to you without his permission. Just rest assure it isn’t you.” 

Stiles fell silent and waited, glad for the sheet covering him now that the medicine was helping with his pain. 

\------------------------

Fifteen minutes later, Scott and Derek made their way inside the house, greeting the Sherriff with concerned and worried faces. Scott was quick to speak first.

“So has Deaton said what’s wrong with Stiles yet? Is he going to be okay?”

John shook his head and sighed.

“No. He had me spread crazy black powder in front of the door and wait down here for you two. I hope Stiles is alright.”

Deaton finally appeared on the top of the steps, walking down slowly. In his hand he held a Ziploc bag with a few tissues inside of it.

“Your son is going to be just fine Sherriff. I will explain to you in just a moment what is going on. But first, I need first Scott and then Derek to take a sniff at these tissues before I can confirm my diagnosis.”

Both boys stepped forward as Deaton handed the bag first to Scott.

“Take that to the Kitchen before opening it. Just enough to get a nose fill. Then close it immediately after, alright?”

Scott nodded and did as he was told; coming back a few moments later with a strange look on his face. 

“It smells like Stiles. But sweeter maybe. Like fresh baked cookies and melon I think.”

Scott handed the bag to Derek and shrugged, not quite sure what was going on.

Derek took the bag and went into the Kitchen to sniff it. The minute the open bag went under his nose though, his eyes lit up red and he growled. He wanted to crawl inside the tiny bag and never come out again. He couldn’t pull his face away from it. He struggled to close the bag and step just a foot inside the living room, hugging it to his chest. 

Deaton looked up.

“Derek, what did you smell?”

Derek growled out as he saw the Vets hand come to take the bag. He nearly bit the fingers in front of him as he hugged the bag tighter and turned slightly away.

“MINE!” 

John looked at Derek worriedly, not liking the Werewolf’s somewhat feral reaction.

“What’s the matter with him now? He looks like you were trying to take away his favorite toy or something.”

Deaton backed away from Derek with his head lowered before he sat down on the couch to explain. 

“In a way, that’s exactly what he thinks I am trying to do. But what he holds in his hand is far more precious than any material possession in the world. The reason Stiles is suffering is because his wolf sees Derek, his Alpha, as his mate.”

“Now wait a damn minute, Doctor…”

Deaton put up his hand.

“I understand your difficulties with this concept John, but if you keep them apart any longer, Stiles will lose more than his manhood. Mates who are forced to stay apart die. It’s that simple. They can no more be separate then the pull of the moon on ocean tides.”

John stood up glaring at the Doctor. 

“I’ve had barely a month to get use to this all. I am still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my boy is a werewolf. Now you are telling me my teenage son, who is seventeen, by the way, is suppose to… _MATE_ with a twenty-three year old man. You’ve got to be out of your mind.”

Derek growled and approached John.

“You want to be in this pack, John? You said a week ago that you did. You made damned sure I understood it. Now tell me again. Do you want to be in this pack?!”

“ Of course I do. But…”

Derek flashed John his red eyes. The Alpha was out to play, and there was no mistaking the serious bitch-face Derek Hale was sporting at the moment.

“Then you will hear what I say. I understand he is your son. I also understand that he is young and at a delicate age. But he is also a werewolf too. One who is in extreme pain and suffering as we speak. On any other day, about anything else, I would concede to your wishes. I would defer to your decisions because I hold your position as his father and the Sherriff in extreme regard. But not with this. This is a calling older, deeper, and more primal than any other a werewolf has. 

“I’ve seen what could happen when mates were kept apart. It killed my father’s sister Angela when she was only 20 years old. She found her mate when she was sixteen. But he was in another pack that lived too far away, and my father’s father wouldn’t hear of her leaving. She wasted away slowly, in the most painful way possible. It nearly crushed the whole family when she died for my grandfather’s stubbornness to keep her safe and at his side. I was three when she passed and I barely recognized her as werewolf or human. That is what awaits Stiles if you keep him from me. In protecting him, you would watch your son slowly suffer and waste away. It would destroy him. Is that what you want?”

John bowed his head. 

“No.”

“Then don’t fight me on this. It’s the only time I will ever fight against you, John. He and I are just as powerless to this as you are, and there is nothing we can do. This is what the wolves in us have chosen, and nothing can stop it. This one time, it doesn’t matter if you will try to stop us from being together or not. We are mates, and I won’t do that to him. I watched my whole family die too many times in my nightmare. I can still feel the broken bonds of my former pack screaming inside me as they lay broken. I can’t lose anyone else. So you will heed me in this, Elder. I am Alpha of this pack. And for once you will bow your head and obey. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

Trembling, John gave one upward glance at the bloody-eyed werewolf before him. And fighting every fatherly instinct in him, he bowed his head and tilted it to the side, showing his throat. He had agreed to be in this pack, father or not. He had to stick by that decision. Stilinski men didn’t break their word, no matter the situation.

“I understand, my Alpha. I will not stand in your way. Just…please, take care of him. He’s all I have left.”

Derek put a hand to John’s shoulder and nodded deeply.

“I know. He is as precious to me as he is to you. To hurt him, or to see him in pain is like feeling my own death come. You have my solemn vow. I will protect him as though he was my own cub.”

“Thank you. That’s all I can ask.”

Deaton spoke up.

“Well, I have to get back to the office. So this is what I suggest. I will break the ash line just long enough for Derek to gather some food, a basin, and as much water as he can. Because once they are in that room, they likely won’t be coming out for a while. Judging by the way Stiles looks, I would say about a week should be enough. Derek, is Peter your second?”

Derek snorted.

“Definitely not. He’s much too dubious to be a second. If I can’t be Alpha then Boyd will take over the pack. I just need to text him and he will have all my affairs in hand with them.”

Deaton nodded as pulled a few crushed herbs in a bowl. He went to the kitchen to add water to them enough to make a runny paste. 

“Good. Then message your second and gather your supplies. Once you are in the room, I will put a silencing spell on the door and close the barrier again. When the first matership has been completed, all you have to do is use Stiles phone to text John so he can break it. The window is sealed. Scott will come with me, since he has to start work just about now. In fact he is already thirty-five minutes late. But given the situation, we’ll let that slide today.”

John looked up.

“What about me?”

Deaton smiled.

“As for you, I brought a book with me that’s in my bag. Once you told me his symptoms I thought this might be the problem. While they are busy, you will be reading until you have to go into work again. If you want to be pack elder, you have to start somewhere. This situation just proved to be a perfect opportunity to start.”

After everything was gathered, be-spelled, sealed, and texted, Derek took a deep breath and focused his wolf, keeping his control iron as he ascended the steps. Just before he disappeared into the room to be with his mate, he heard his new human wolf/dad in-law speak out in whispered words.

“Good Luck son. After raising him for seventeen years, believe me when I say you are going to need all the luck you can afford.”

Swallowing one last time, he nodded at the statement absently. Knowing aforementioned boy for the last three years, he wholeheartedly agreed with that statement. 

Opening the door with one last look at Deaton, he prepared himself for Hurricane Stiles to knock him on his ass. It reminded him of a famous quote. One said by the prestigious Sir William Shakespeare. It replayed on a loop in his head as he closed the door behind him.

_“Once more unto the breach, dear friends.”_


	9. Sugar and Spice and Everything Sexy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek begin their mating way of Derek's hands and Erica and Peter have an unforgettable moment. ( NOT THAT KIND OF MOMENT...get your heads out of the gutter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more sexy time to come for the mates in the next chapter. So no grumpy faces.

As Derek heard Deaton finally finish his incantation and leave the house, he locked Stiles door behind him and looked around the room. It appeared that the emissary had been slightly busy before he left Stiles’ room. On the bed side table lay a lumpy folded over towel with a post-it sticking to it. Unfolding the towel, he found a few things he knew Stiles probably didn’t have. A brand new bottle of the best natural unscented lube one could buy, several condoms ( not that many werewolves actually _needed_ them), and another small post it telling him that there was a few boxes of wet wipes inside the small cabinet on the opposite side of Stiles’ bed. Going through everything in a matter of seconds, Derek took a deep breath and finally looked upon the dosing form of his soon to be mate. 

Brushing the still sweaty head back lightly, he ran a finger down the defined cheek-bone of the relaxed cherub face. Continuing the inspection, he slowly drew the sheet down, his nose absolutely assaulted with the scent of his heat-stricken mate. Seeing the lanky arms and fine-boned hands, he could imagine in his mind how the teenager before him would look when he was finished becoming the man he would be. Though Stiles’ somewhat petite ass didn’t need any enhancements what-so-ever. It made him salivate just to think of what he would be doing to it sometime later tonight. 

Giving a somewhat ragged chuckle, Stiles opened his eyes sleepily and turned his head.

“Well, if your face doesn’t bare the look of a seriously starving man, I don’t know what does. I get it, though, I really do. You want to _‘break yourself off a piece of that kit-kat bar’_ and all. But you might actually try staring at my face like that first. Or I might just get hurt feelings by being objectified by my soon-to-be mate. I’m just sayin’…a mate is made up of more than an ass.”

Derek’s cheeks pinked as he forced his eyes away from the area his wolf wanted to slam into as quickly as possible. He looked up into the teenager’s face, trying and failing to come up with the right excuse. 

“Hey now, big guy. There’s no reason to be all puppy-shame faced. I know your want my sexy hot _bod-dah_. I get it. Though, looking as much like a Greek-god as you do, I don’t know how you don’t spend all day and night staring at yourself in the mirror.”

Derek gave him a stone wall face as he deadpanned.

“My name is not Jackson Whitmore. I don’t mock-growl at myself in the mirror every day just because I think I am everyone’s type. If anything I avoid mirrors like the plague unless I need them. Mostly just to shave my face. Though Peter still insists till this day that I glare my beard into submission.”

Stiles gave back as good as he got, pulling up the sheet to his waist as he prepared to turn on his back.

“You’re the Alpha, Kimosabi. You can stare anything into submission. For a while there, I swore that you could stare a full-grown bear into running away in terror. Then again, you did scare the shit out of me when we first met. So, I was probably really bias at the time.”

As Stiles slowly flopped onto his back, he hissed as the movement tugged at his painfully swollen parts. Derek raised a hand and put it to the sheet gently, his wolf whimpering inside him at the sound of pain coming from its chosen.

“Can I see?”

Stiles shrugged and nodded.

“Just a warning; it’s not a pretty sight.”

Derek nodded and lifted the sheet carefully away from his mate’s groin. He cringed in sympathy at the sight that unfolded before him. There was man-pain and then there was _MANPAIN_! And his mate was suffering some serious form of the later condition. It looked so red and sore, he nearly wanted to clutch himself in agony. 

Stiles look down and sighed. 

“Alan said that the _‘touch of my mate’_ would cure me. But seeing as you already touched my face and arm, I have no idea what he was talking about. Even with the awesome pain meds, just the sheet alone feels like broken shards of glass on that thing. The thought of anyone actually trying to touch it makes me want to run away.”

Derek tilted his head and detached himself emotionally for a few seconds. Like any doctor treating a loved one, he had to have a slight indifference when tackling this problem. Looking at the lube, and then his hand, he finally came up with an idea.

“I think I know what he meant. Some werewolves have the ability to draw out pain. You’ve seen it before, probably on Scott or Peter. Did you ever see them with black veins crawling up their arms?”

Stiles thought for a moment and then nodded. 

“Yeah I did see it once. Scott was helping Dr. Cryptic-n-Vague with a dog once. His arms were black-veiny. He looked really tired after. The poor dog was suffering from a major car wreak though. So he must have been in a lot of pain.”

Derek shook his head. 

“No, Scott was tired because he was a bitten beta to an Alpha that didn’t exist anymore. He is likely still new at it. Peter and I both have the same gift. My mother did too. If the injury is massive, then drawing the pain away could be very tiring. But once you ejaculate, the swelling and pain should go down immediately. I only have to draw the pain away enough to get you to that point. Luckily, my mother trained me from the age of four, so I have enough control not to turn off the feeling from the nerves completely. Otherwise the whole thing would be pointless.”

Stiles took a deep breath.

“Alright, that sounds fairly easy. I’ll probably collapse immediately after for a bit, considering that I didn’t get much sleep last night. Just…it’s my first time where I’m not by myself. I wish it would have happened under better circumstances is all.”

Derek touched his cheek and brushed his lips against Stiles’ own.

“I know, sweetheart. Believe I do. But heat is never any fun the first time. I had my first male werewolf rut at fourteen. Some males get it and some don’t. Granted I wasn’t an Alpha at the time. But it was still pure hell. Now just relax, close your eyes, and let me take care of you.”

Carefully focusing on his control, Derek took another deep breath. Sitting down on the bed, he considered the right way to do this. Finally getting an idea, he stood up go a moment. 

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me? Or do you need help?”

Stiles shook his head as he slowly sat up.

“Naw, I got it. I learned how to walk crippled. One day during practice, one of the players swung his lacrosse stick too wide and I got slammed with the ball between my legs. It honestly felt like he broke my dick off. I had to get Scott to help me hobble to the nurse’s office while holding a bag of ice to my crotch. After that, getting on my hands and knees right now is cake. By the way, under my bed is a storage Ziploc bag with a really crappy flat pillow in it. You can take that out and put it under me. God knows it’s seen more than one cum shot. Though if you tell anyone about my superman cum pillow I’ll…”

“Rip my throat out with your teeth?”

Stiles chuckled,

“Of course not. We’re mates after all, so I have to leave your throat intact. I’ll just take embarrassing pictures of your head and butt while you’re sleeping one day and post them on my instagram. You’ll never be able to come back from it.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fine; your secret is safe with me. I’d rather not have my butt all over the internet. Laura once caught me in the middle of masturbating and snapped a picture of it on her phone. I’m just glad my head didn’t make it in, or B.H.H. would still be talking about me.”

Finally, Stiles got into position while Derek was busy fishing the aforementioned pillow out from under the bed. When he opened it, he knew it had been cleaned. But he could still smell recent trace amounts of Stiles’ sweat and semen all over it. Unable to help himself, he shoved his face in the pillow and took a deep breath, trying to chase the scent.

Stiles cleared his throat, a smile barely hidden on his face.

“Um, do you want me to leave you alone with my pillow, Dude? You kinda seem pretty attached to it.”

Derek lifted his head, another pale blush covering his face.

“Shut up. You know it’s a wolf thing.”

Stiles snickered for a few moments before the reality of the moment finally hit him. Derek Hale, his werewolf Alpha mate, and purveyor of all things sexy, was about to get up close and personal with a part of his body that only he had ever touched. The nervous excitement was only outweighed by the need not to beg for it before said man touched him. In heat or not, he didn’t want to sound too needy. Swallowing down the saliva that was threatening to drool out of his mouth, he closed his eyes and waited while he felt the flattened pillow settle into place underneath him. 

He shook his head so he didn’t miss the words coming out of Derek’s mouth. 

“Alright, now when I wrap my hand around you, you have to listen to your instincts. The wolf knows what to do. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Derek made sure to use what might be considered almost too much lube on his hands after removing his shirt and jeans. Kneeling in nothing but his tight boxer briefs, he ran his hand down Stiles’ back. 

“Are you ready?”

Stiles gave a silent nod and Derek reached forward, gently wrapping his hand around Stiles as carefully as he could. Black veins immediately climbed up his arm as he drew away the pain the medicine couldn’t.

“Now let the wolf take over. It knows what to do. Don’t worry, I have you.”

Stiles slowly rolled his shoulders, shifting into beta form as the wolf howled inside him. After a few stumbling starts his hips began a slow steady rhythm.

“Oh god…never thought a hand could feel so good.”

Derek watched him carefully, his own wolf barely held back as he stared at his mate with glowing red eyes. After a few minutes, he noticed Stiles was gritting his teeth as the slow steady moves became jagged and messy. Stiles was struggling with his own control. Derek understood. He was probably frightened of how loud the wolf was baying inside him. Keeping his voice low and calm, he sought to help him. 

“Stiles, you have to let go. I know you are worried, but you don’t have to be. I’m your Alpha. There’s nothing you could do right now that would either hurt or shock me. I know you need to be wild. Let yourself go. I’m here and I’ll catch you.”

Stiles stopped for a moment, staring at Derek with uncertain purple glowing eyes. Then with a growl, he let the wolf out just enough to make sure that he wouldn’t shift fully. Instead of grinding his hips, he pushed into Derek’s fist with quick, sharp jabs, his claws ripping through the bed to anchor him to the world. Growling moans echoed from his fanged mouth as his head dropped down to lean against the bed. Everything in him was now focused on the drive to breed, to tie himself to his mate. 

Derek own beta form took over, though he had control enough to keep his claws from growing in. 

“Good mate. So good. That right; breed me. I want you too. Show me how much you want your mate.”

Stiles whimpered as his hips drilled into the grip around him, wanting to give his alpha mate just what he asked for. He could feel it, that searing burn curling at the base of his spine as his balls drew up to his body. The swift movements shifted into a constant grinding push forward as he spoke in a guttural voice.

“Need you…need something…have to…Please Derek.”

Derek wrapped his other lubed hand around Stiles’, simulating a breeding by driving his hands down around the knot half way before pulling up to do it all over again. At just the right moment, he cupped the knot with one hand and used the other to form a tight ring behind it, locking Stiles into place. 

“Come for me, Stiles. Come now!”

With a couple of sharp pulls backwards, Stiles split the air with a mighty howl as he spilled buckets of cum all over Derek and the pillow beneath him. His mostly furred body was held tight in the moment, each muscle tense as he gave himself over to the pleasure. 

After watching Stiles come for what seemed like three solid minutes straight, Derek finally let go of him and quickly adjusted their position, so they were spooned on the bed. Putting a towel in the right location, he held his mate to him and buried his face in his neck. 

Stiles whined as he scrambled to grab Derek’s hand and put it back on him.

“Put it back…gotta…not done…need…”

Derek hushed his mate.

“Shhh, don’t worry. I know, okay? I’ve got you.”

Wrapping his free hand quickly back into place, he pushed the knot through it again as best he could and tightened it around the base, feeling Stiles push and pull his hips in minute movements.

“Oh…again…again….it’s…I’m…URGHHHHH!”

Derek felt his hand get soaked with a fresh release as Stiles spewed forth another volley of semen. He remembered when he was alone at the age of fourteen, his hands refusing to stop as orgasm after orgasm seemed to wring him dry.

“I’ve got you baby. I’ll be right here until you’re done. I won’t let go, I promise.”

And so they lay there and waited until Stiles’ wolf was satisfied. After four more earth-shaking releases, Stiles finally went limp, immediately collapsing into a much needed rest.

\----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, while the mates slept the sleep of sexy-dreaming. Peter had the loft all to himself for once. None of the teenagers were suppose to stop by the moment, so he decided to indulge himself in a little bit of guilty pleasure.

Most saw the nearly forty year old man as many things. The pack couldn’t decide if he was insane, narcissist, creepy, or a combination of all three. The regular person on the street either saw him as a dangerous man or a suave rich gentleman. Peter wore many faces to fuck with people’s heads. He just loved to get a reaction out of everyone as he delved into their brains and planted his seeds of crazy. So most only ever knew him as he wished them to and no more than that.

No one knew that he was gayer then a floral hand-bag full of fruity beef-cake.

When his first mate had been together with him, she had known the truth. She had indulged him as much as she was able. But as a member of the pack, he was expected to father children to help the family expand. He had loved his wife Katherine as much as a gay man could. She was his dearest friend and confidant. The fact that his wolf had chosen her as a mate was a shock to them both. But she’d known his secret and kept it to herself. Peter and Talia never spoke of his sexuality, and most of the other children had been too young to understand why their uncle spent most of his time away from his mate then with her. 

Shaking his head of the past, Peter walked around the spotless loft shirtless and sockless, seeking out the radio in the living room. Thank the moon that the loft was nearly silent to the people outside it, or what he was about to do would draw the police to his door for disturbing the peace. The CD-R he held in his hand was his personal favorites he’d gotten off the internet. And with no little werewolves to rat him out, he was free to shed his normal, everyday masks and be the Peter he kept hidden. 

Placing the CD in the disc slot, he turned the volume up as much as his werewolf hearing would allow and stretched out his limbs. Suitably limber, he let the first song roll over him and let his body work itself into a dancing frenzy. His wolf was jovially prancing inside him with its tail up, strutting like a crazed male peacock would after a female. And Peter let it, his hips swaying to and fro as his feet carried him around the living room floor. 

But half way through his seventh song, Pretty Little Psycho by Porcelain Black, he was too lost in his own world to hear the door open and close. With his eyes closed and his body working up a sweat, he never saw the blonde-bombshell enter the loft behind him and close the door as silently as possible. 

Erica held back an awed snicker as she watched Uncle Crazy dance his pants off. She wasn’t even sure how he was moving so well in jeans that looked like they were painted on. Peter ‘bad-touch’ Hale had some seriously dirty dancin’ moves going on. Erica was glad now that she had accidently left her chem.-test in the library earlier today, or she might have missed this. Taking out her phone, she took a quick video of him because if she told the pack without proof no one would believe her.

Unable to hold her tongue any longer, she put her phone away. Then, raising her fingers to her lips, she gave a nearly piercing wolf –whistle to draw his attention.

Peter nearly fell on his ass mid-spin as his head snapped up and his eyes opened. Seeing Erica standing there with a large smile on her face, he cursed and grabbed the remote from his pocket, turning the radio off. 

“What are you doing here?”

Erica snickered.

“Well, I thought I was here to pick of my Chemistry test notes. I didn’t expect a show instead. Gotta say, Uncle Lazarus, you looking mighty fine in dem Jeans. But I got to ask you something?”

Peter grumbled, not at all happy with the disturbance to his private time. 

“What?!”

“Where did you learn to dance so well? I was about to offer you some milk with that awesome shake you got going on.” 

“I was self taught. Not that it’s any of your business. Just get what you came for and get out.”

Erica swayed over to him, giving him an evil grin.

“My my my, someone is cranky. And here I thought I was the uber-bitch of the pack. Seems I have some competition.”

Peter snuck his nose up in the air and huffed.

“Yes well, you threw off my groove.”

Erica nearly face-palmed as she shook her head with a laugh.

“Really Emperor Kuzco? You’re quoting Disney again? Not that I blame you for being grumpy. If I had to hold that much gay in all the time, I would be seriously ripping throats out left and right.”

Peter blinks and used his silky lilting voice as he stared her down.

“Who said anything about me being homosexual? Are you telling me that only men who love their own sex have the gift of dance? I find that rather offensive and highly gender-bias of you.”

Erica shook her head and snorted.

“What, you think you hide your gay so well no-one’s noticed by now? I got news for you. The only one not aware your breaking out in rainbows is Scott, and that’s only because he’s too busy being absorbed into his hunter-bitch to pay attention to anything else. Isaac thought for a while that you might have had a yen for him for a bit.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I hate to bust your bubble. But I was married to a woman. And I happened to think Scott’s mom is gorgeous. So sorry to tell you, but your theory is false.”

Erica gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look and tutted.

“Peter Peter pumpkin eater, you really think you can fool me with your obvious denial. I’m as straight as an arrow, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t sometimes feel the urge to try and kiss Lydia Martin. If she hadn’t been such a stuck-up rich girl, I might have done it just to see her reaction. And a lot of gay men have the drive to prove their not gay by marrying a woman. My guess is your wolf had something to do with that. Not that I’m not saying you didn’t love your wife, don’t mistake me. But your heart tells me you don’t believe you’re any straight then I am a lesbian. So really, whose the one whose theory is proven wrong.”

Peter sighed and flopped on the couch.

“Can’t you too-clever teenagers just leave me alone for one night? I will beg if I have to. I just want one night to myself.”

Erica shrugged.

“Sure I could leave you alone to bitch about the fact that you were found out. Or I could join you in your fun dancing times and maybe later we can paint each-others nails. Come on, Peter, you don’t have to hide this from anyone. You know that we’re Pack, and pack doesn’t care what you like up your butt. All they care about is that you’re you. So be you, turn the music back on, and let’s get jiggy with it. What do you say?” 

Peter considered it for a bit, staring in her direction as he tried to make up his mind. But deciding she had a point, he sighed and stood up.

“First of all, don’t think I don’t know that you probably have a video of me on that phone in your pocket. Delete it. My dancing is my own business.”

Erica gave him a mock-salute and erased the video from her phone.

“Second, keep that nail-shit away from my nose. I hate the smell of it and that crap used to remove it. And third, you tell anyone who doesn’t know about my orientation, and I will wait until you fall to sleep to shave your head Brittney Spears Style. Are we clear?”

Erica nodded, fighting the urge to cover her hair in fear of it being shaved.

“Clear as Crystal, Uncle Scary.”

Peter cracked his neck and stood up, pulling out the remote. 

“Oh and one last thing. Cramp my dance, bitch, and I will pick you up and throw you bodily out of this loft by way of the closed window.”

Erica glared at him then, wanting to slap the self-confident look off his face.

“Alright; enough with the threats already. Just turn the music back on and let me help you get your groove back, alright?”

Peter just nodded and pointed the remote at the radio. Music once again blasted through the loft as the next song started. He watched Erica closely for a while as he swirled, just to make sure she wasn’t laughing at him. Then letting his guard down, he closed his eyes and cut loose once more. 

Together they danced the night way, each feeling the pack bonds between them tighten and hold firm. To the wolves inside of them it was clear, that ‘pack’ was slowly becoming ‘Family’. 

And sleeping beside his mate, Derek smiled as he felt the wolf inside him howl in happiness. Slowly but surely, the pack was becoming one. The Alpha inside of him was finally beginning to settle.


	10. Author's Note ( Oh shit not again....Sorry)

My dear Readers,

I know, I know. Another freakin Authors Note. But I had to leave one so I can explain.

In december I will be making the biggest change in my life. After Seven years of a long distance relationship with my partner ( to clarify we are both girls...though I doubt that really matters right now. ) I am going to be moving in with her. As in leaving NY and moving to NC. This is a big change, filled with a lot of uncertainty and absolute, gut wrenching fear.

Why?

This isn't my first rodeo. I've done this twice in the past. Not the long distance relationship thing, but the moving thing. It failed miserably. I thought I really knew the people I was moving in with, but they proved to be entirely different people when the move settled in. I didn't know them like I know my girl now, but still, it proved to be a complete f**king disaster. Mostly because of money.

I am disabled. You can't see it from the outside of course. No, that would be too easy for fate to give me ( Not that being disabled in any way is anywhere near a good thing...don't misunderstand me ) . I have a severe case of PTSD with A.D.D and Cronic pain disorder thrown in. The doctors call it a big name. I call it Fybro-My f**king body hurts. A good name as far as I am concerned. It causes crippling headaches, numbness all over my right side, and an extreme tightness to all my limbs.

The problem that really has me on a noose right now, is that NC has a big case of "Work cause we don't care if your hurting". That puts a big dark cloud over my move. Unless I can prove my diablity to them( Extremely difficult when my disabilities are on the inside) I get no health coverage, thus I can't take the 7 medications I am on just to function properly. This is the biggest stress factor right now. And the closer my move date comes, the harder it becomes for me not to panic. Because I have no choice. I have to move. And this is the only place I've got left to go

I haven't gone anywhere, my readers. I just have so much to worry about right now to concentrate on writing. The issue above is just the biggest situation on top of the steaming pile of SH*t that is going on right now. I am happy to move in with my lady love...it's just everything else that sucks. So please bare with me as I wade through this mess that is my RL. I will return as soon as I can, when things settle into some sort of easier flow. I haven't forgotten, and I haven't disappeared. I just need this time to sort through this mess and I will return. 

Sincerely, Areanna Whitewolf a.k.a Ann B.


	11. A Desperate Plea For BETA Help.

Dear Readers,

I hate using my stories this way but I could really use some help. Beta help to be exact, and not just any kind. I know all of my stories are absolutely full of grammor and spelling Errors. But while a beta can point out mistakes for you to correct, I need a little more than that. The Spelling errors I can correct with spell check once I figure out where all they are. The grammor is something different. I used to understand all of this in High school but while you all cheer my writing..well I have never been good at know what goes where. Than and Then confused me for years. But knowing where to put a comma, how to keep a sentence in format, I am lost in these things. I have the skill set to write a decent story, but without these vital clues, my story looks sloppy and I spend forever just trying to figure out where everything should go. And I don't just want to write a story with a good plotline and such, I want to write it correctly. Using all the proper puncuations and spelling. 

The most profound problem is that I am the writer. When I reread a story...I see what I wanted to write and my eyes are sometimes blind to the mistakes. I have an unfinished Harry Potter story I wanted to add here and three Buffy the vampire stories I want to work on and add here as well...But the task of correcting and working out the mistakes all on my own....I might never have time to write anything new working on all the old stuff I have to correct. Plus, while my writing on this site is far better than in yonder years, well, they could do with a good critical eye outside of my own to show me where the mistakes are, how to improve the story, and to help me in making some of the vast corrections I need to do. 

So I need a beta...but there is a condition. My stories are never cannon. And my characters are not religious to their series or rigid in their make. The point of fanfiction to me is to use these characters and take them where the original creator wouldn't go. To use you ideas and opinions to improve on them how you see fit. So while some of my character protrayals are outlandish in some ways, I didn't make a mistake when I wrote them that way. I try to use what I know of the characters and open them up. Color outside the lines. So any beta I get will have to be open minded and willing. I know some people are fanatical in their way to the show/book/movie and they hate to see their characters stray from how they always pictured them. I need a beta who loves these characters as much as I do, but is able to accept that they may not always appear strict to their original storylines.

**I DON'T WANT TO USE THE COMMENT SECTION FOR THIS**. I didn't know how else to ask for a beta than to do it through my stories, but the comment section is for how you feel about the story. If there is anyone out there interested in helping me with this, any beta ready to take on the task and work with me, **PLEASE E-MAIL ME AT AREANNA_WHITEWOLF@YAHOO.COM and tell me so. Thank you for your time and I am sorry I had to waste the site space for this letter. I just don't know how else to ask for help.**

**Sincerely Yours,**

**Areanna Whitewolf AKA Ann B.**


	12. Authors update: Holy Goddess life can suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am still here

Dear Readers,

Let me explain what has been going on. I am sure by now that you think I've given up on my writing. I really haven't. But my life lately has hit a couple of major road blocks that really haven't given me the time to focus on my stories. 

First I moved from New York to North Carolina. The move itself happened far sooner than I wanted it too. Both my girlfriend and I weren't really prepared for the move to take place two and a half months after she purchased the house we are now living in. 

Then when I first arrived here, the temperature was flucuating so much that I came down with a severe case of bronchitis. And when I say severe, I mean it was so bad I fractured two of my ribs coughing so hard. It was very painful. It took me almost three weeks to recuperate after that. 

Just when I was getting better, I got slammed with another road block. I was being treated for A.D.D with ritalin, and my new doctor decided she didn't want me on it anymore. SO she just took me off my meds suddenly, and let me tell you that was no fun at all. It took two and a half weeks for her to place me on another medication that promptly put me to sleep 90% of the time. Now I've been diagnosed correctly with bi-polor disorder instead and they want me to go on a new medicine to help with that. I start it tomorrow and I have no idea how it's going to work. 

In between all of this I was dealing with three other major incidents. Trying to get medical coverage was one. THen my girlfriend had so much stress that when her oldest dog passed away, it was the last straw. She started having these little angry fits. Thankfully she is going to be going to a theropist soon herself to help her with her own issues. Finally, after only three years of illness, my mother lost her fight and died. 

Taken one at a time, I would have been able to continue writing. But this came at me in two short months and I buckled under the pressure. The last chapter of Sookie of a different breed didn't come out at all like I wanted. I started a new Teen Wolf Fiction that was a good idea and then moved before I could get it off the ground. The first Teen Wolf fiction, Self Preservation, sort of fell short when I realized I brought mating into the plot way too soon. And with my cross-over fiction, Walk a lifetime in my shoes, I was ready to start on the sequel when I realized I had no idea how to write a war plot, as I have never done it before. As you can imagine, I wasn't all that happy with myself. 

But I haven't given up on my writing, I promise. I just need some time to recover from all this mess and come back swinging and ready to belt out beautiful and better chapters. It's not a hiatus so much as a break, I swear to you. I just need some time to work out real life to clear the path for writing fiction. 

You are so awesome, my readers, and I am sorry for the wait. I just...sometimes life flings shit at you and you don't have time to duck fast enough to let it miss you. But I will be back after a really really long shower. Count on it. 

Sincerely 

Areanna Whitewolf.


End file.
